


moon over bourbon street

by vtforpedro



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Violence, Bottom Credence Barebone, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Modern Era, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, POV Alternating, Romance, Vampire Bites, Vampire Original Percival Graves, and also a bit of a bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 63,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24990538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which a university project and meddling friends lead Credence Barebone to Percival Graves, a man with a sharp smile, who will offer him more than he’s ever dared to wish for.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 45
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

“Capture the Supernatural,” Jon reads aloud. “What the hell does that mean?”  
  
“To capture the supernatural, obviously,” Mina says as she peers at his laptop screen. “Did he give no instructions again?”  
  
Jon shakes his head. “Apparently we are to interpret the meaning of the coursework all by ourselves,” he says with a wry smile. “Which means he wants something artsy and abstract.”  
  
Credence sighs as he rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the table in the library, trying to stay awake. It’s been a hellish first semester, but it’s their senior year, so he can’t really expect anything different. He rubs his eyes and frowns as Jon turns the computer toward him, to emphasize their assignment really is only that single sentence.  
  
“Let’s start with the cemetery,” he suggests.  
  
Quint groans. “Why do you always jump straight into it?” he complains. “We’ve got to plan this out. If we make it too obvious he’s only going to give us a passing grade.”  
  
Credence shrugs. “If there aren’t any blatant examples of things someone would assume to be supernatural, he’ll also take points off for no on-the-nose humor.”  
  
“My neighbor is a vampire,” Lucy says, her face covered by her hoodie. When everyone sighs, she lifts it and peers out at them, looking as exhausted as Credence feels. “No, really, he is.”  
  
“How is he a vampire?” Mina asks with a grin. “Because he only drinks virgin blood?”  
  
Lucy flips her off. “Because he’s absurdly handsome, rarely is out in the daylight, gone all night, Mormons _literally_ run screaming from his door, and one time I saw a guy leave his place with bandages on his neck.”  
  
“He’s a stripper,” Credence says.  
  
Jon points at him. “That’s exactly what he is.”  
  
“Then explain the bandaged neck guy!”  
  
“Did you see him go _into_ the house unbandaged?”  
  
Lucy frowns. “Well, no,” she says. “But he looked really strange. Like a zombie, when he came out. I was washing my car, so he wasn’t far from me, and he didn’t even seem to notice his surroundings. It was so odd.”  
  
They stare at her for a while.  
  
“With all of that glaring evidence,” Credence says mildly and smiles as she punches his shoulder. “I don’t think we should gang up on your neighbor and ask him if he’s a vampire. Or take his picture without his permission.”  
  
Quint hums. “Vampires don’t show up on cameras, right? We could just take one, when he’s not looking,” he says. “If it looks weird, we’ll know we’re thinking about this too much. If it looks normal, we could sneak him in as a modern debonair vampire in the project.”  
  
Credence shakes his head in disbelief. “We can’t do that,” he says. “We’d have to lie and say we got his permission.”  
  
“It’s not like it would be published anywhere,” Lucy says with a shrug. “He’ll never know.”  
  
Jon grimaces as he looks at Credence. “I’m with you, bud, that’s fucked,” he says. “What if he _does_ notice?”  
  
“He won’t,” Lucy says as she sits up with sudden fervor. “Like I said, he’s rarely out during the day. But he comes home when the sun rises. I’ll just take a picture from my living room window and he’ll be none the wiser. Besides, he really is attractive, pale skin and dark hair and all that, it’s the perfect on-the-nose thing Professor Abraham will be looking for.”  
  
Mina wrinkles her nose. “You do that and leave us out of it,” she says. “What other ways can we photograph the supernatural? Maybe Times Square? We could get some nice shots of the billboards and how eerie they look with some exposure.”  
  
Credence glances at Lucy, who looks determined and winks at him. He smiles and shakes his head and turns back to the group. They’ll be here until their next class in an hour or so, planning out the project. It’s their one group project of the year, a huge part of their grade, and they’re supposed to be working on their thesis on top of it.  
  
He thinks universities were designed to kill people rather than teach them, but at least this is more creative than Poodles Through the Ages from last year.  
  
——  
  
Credence is in his senior apartment, blessedly asleep, when his phone begins to buzz angrily on the corner of his bed. He groans, because it’s not his alarm, considering it’s Saturday, and fishes around for it. It’s a message from Lucy with numerous red light emojis and a lot of all-caps texts, in their group chat.  
  
He’s about to go back to sleep when he sees that it’s not even seven in the morning yet, the sun not much higher than the horizon, but his other friends begin to text back, yelling at her for waking them.  
  
Jon has been awake, but he does complain that she’s ruining his gym session.  
_  
_ _Get. On. Skype. Now._  
  
Credence is going to kill her later on, but he grabs his laptop from the floor and lays on his back, opening the Skype app.  
  
Slowly, steadily, Lucy calls everyone and he arranges their screens on his and shares an eye roll with Mina. They’re all in bed, minus Lucy and Jon, who is outside of the gym now and looks a bit mutinous.  
  
“I was in the middle of my reps,” he complains. “What the fuck is going on?”  
  
Lucy is in her family living room, sitting on the window seat that faces her front yard. “Okay, so I set my alarm for six, right? Because my neighbor usually gets home around six-thirty, when the sun starts to come up. He changes that, by the way, it’s earlier in the summer and later in the winter. But always to avoid the sun,” she says and ignores their various groans and curses. “So he gets home, right? And he can’t see me, I know he can’t, but as he’s pulling out his duffel bag, I start taking pictures. I took a bunch as he walked from his truck until he disappeared near his entryway.”  
  
“Let me guess,” Credence says through a yawn. “He didn’t show up in any of them.”  
  
“That’s the weird thing,” she says and their computers begin to ping with a message from her. “He _did._ Just not in the way he should have.”  
  
Credence opens the file she’s sent over and sees six pictures when he opens it. He opens them all and frowns. It’s clear that Lucy is not at a great vantage point, her yard wide and a large tree blocking out half of her neighbor’s driveway. But he can see the black truck and as he goes through the pictures, he doesn’t see her neighbor.  
  
It’s more of a bright white sheen, like the color has been sucked out of the picture entirely, moving steadily along until it disappears in the entryway, just as she had said. They’re quiet for a while as they look through them.  
  
“It’s… weird, I grant you,” Mina says slowly. “But it was probably just the camera.”  
  
“I thought you all might say that,” Lucy says and there’s another ping as they receive another file. “So here are two other neighbors walking their dog approximately four minutes later.”  
  
These pictures show a perfectly normal elderly couple walking a small Shih Tzu.  
  
“Maybe it was the sun,” Quint says. “Caught the lens wrong.”  
  
“That’s west, moron,” Jon says, unusually sour, but he’s probably still angry about his precious gym time being interrupted. “You can tell the light is coming from the other way.”  
  
“Exactly,” Lucy says determinedly. “It’s not my camera, it’s not the sun, it’s not anything but him. I told you all! He’s a fucking vampire. I’ve known it for five years now, I just never thought to take his picture before.”  
  
Mina hums, biting at her knuckle. “Is he super weird?”  
  
“No,” Lucy says. “He’s really charming, actually. _Which vampires are known to be._ He’s cool, if anything, stays out of the neighborhood drama, but lends a hand if you ask him to. If he had tits, I might just be interested in him.”  
  
Credence huffs a laugh. “So when he lends a hand it’s always dark out?”  
  
“Hmm… no, actually,” Lucy says. “But he’s pretty irritable if it’s daylight hours. And it’s only spring or fall, really, he _never_ comes out during the winter or the summer.”  
  
“A lot more sunlight,” Quint says thoughtfully. “Rays hit harder in the summer or when they’re reflected off of snow.”  
  
“Oh my God,” Credence groans. “Please tell me we’re not actually believing this man is a vampire.”  
  
“What else could he be?” Lucy demands.  
  
“I don’t know, a normal man trying to live his normal life? Don’t take his picture again,” Credence says. Lucy scowls. “I’m serious, don’t, you’re going to get caught. These pictures don’t prove anything.”  
  
Lucy sighs and leans against the window, peering outside. “Look,” she says. “If you don’t believe me, come over tonight. You can see for yourself what I mean in the morning.”  
  
“I just said—”  
  
“We heard you, Credence,” Quint says with a grin. “But I want to see if it’s the same on all of our cameras.”  
  
_“Oh my God.”_  
  
“Let’s just do it, Credence,” Jon sighs. “When he shows up in all the photos, we can let him live his life and actually do some real work on the project. Your parents won’t object to us being there, Luce?”  
  
She shakes her head. “They already think we’re a bunch of weirdos, a sleepover won’t bother them too much. And,” she says, very seriously, “we can have alcohol at this sleepover.”  
  
“I mean. If it’s free alcohol,” Mina says with a shrug. “I’m in.”  
  
“In,” Quint says through a yawn.  
  
“In, unfortunately,” Jon says.  
  
It goes quiet as they stare at their screens and Credence groans again. “He’s going to see us,” he says. He grimaces when they say nothing. “I’m in, but when the police are called, I’m going to be happy to say I told you so.”  
  
“Fair,” Lucy says cheerfully.  
  
——  
  
Graves has had a long… long, long, long night.  
  
The kind of night that wasn’t satisfying at all, the kind he’d like to forget as soon as possible, and he thinks he may sleep when he gets home, instead of watching TV or browsing the internet. The comfort of satin sheets will ease his body, ease his mind, and he can try harder tomorrow night to find a better meal.  
  
He drives through his neighborhood as the sun begins to rise, squinting a little until he turns into his driveway. He rubs his hands over his face before he gets out of the truck and grabs his duffel bag out from the back. He closes the door and locks it and that’s when he feels it.  
  
Graves felt it yesterday too. Someone was watching him, but it’s something he’s used to, living in suburbia, something he _had_ to get used to. No one in the city gives a damn, but out here, everyone wants to know everyone’s business.  
  
But this is different. He’s not being watched by just one person, no, but a handful. It’s strange and he peers at the driver’s side mirror and what little he can see behind him in it. No, he decides, they’re closer than that.  
  
So he closes his eyes and listens. Pushes into his senses more than he usually does at home and he hears a faint rustling from his left. A curtain, he thinks, and opens his eyes. He looks then, at his neighbor’s house, and sees a curtain swiftly close. Another one, on the second story, and he looks out at the street. There is an unfamiliar car parked in front of the house, but a sticker on the back indicates they’re a student from NYU. He knows that the girl that lives there, Lucy, also goes to NYU and suspects she has a friend over. Or more than one.  
  
Graves smiles then, because it’s not something he’s unused to, young girls looking at him. Always finds their disappointment amusing when he won’t look back. He moves on, going inside and dropping the duffel bag off before he finds something warm to drink and walks upstairs.  
  
He works at the cemetery, on paper, security, but he’d been in the city, hunting and finding slim pickings, despite the size of Manhattan. He’s grown picky as he’s gotten older, he knows that, but he thinks he will have to lower his standards soon or go to his donor.  
  
Graves won’t know how wrong he is until he meets Credence Barebone.  
  
——  
  
There’s silence for a long while.  
  
“Well, that was fucking weird,” Quint finally says.  
  
“He literally looked… right at the window,” Lucy says and sounds a little shell shocked. “He heard us. Or felt us or something.”  
  
“You’ve never felt anyone looking at you before?” Credence asks and won’t admit he’s a bit uneasy himself. He’d been upstairs with Jon, looking through Lucy’s bedroom window, and he’d seen the way the man had paused. The way he looked right at the window. “That’s probably all it was.”  
  
“Oh, come on,” Mina says. “The way he just stood there with his eyes closed before he looked right at us. We weren’t talking. Were you?”  
  
“No,” Jon says uncomfortably. “I was taking pictures until Credence closed the curtain.”  
  
“We didn’t say one word after we saw his truck. He still heard us, Credence.”  
  
“This is getting ridiculous,” Credence says and is alarmed he sounds rather shrill. “We are looking into this way too closely. Things seem strange when you want them to be.” He frowns as they all give him a look. “It’s true. Like when we were kids, scared we’d see something in the dark, and convince ourselves we did.”  
  
Lucy crosses her arms and taps her foot on the ground. “There’s something different about him and you can be in denial about it for as long as you’d like, but I think we should do some digging.”  
  
“Do some digging?” Quint asks as he laughs. “Are we going to become supernatural investigators now? Should I start carrying holy water and a wooden stake?”  
  
“I just mean,” Lucy says with dignity, “we can look him up. See what we find.”  
  
Mina hums. “What’s his name?”  
  
“Percy,” Lucy says. “Percy Graves. When was the last time you guys met anyone named _Percival?”_ _  
_  
Credence sighs. “Just because it’s not a modern name doesn’t mean he’s a damn vampire!” he says and laughs helplessly. “We are way too old for this.”  
  
Jon shrugs as he pulls out his phone and Credence notices everyone else has their phones out too. “Maybe,” he says. “But it’s a better way to spend a Sunday than stuck in our rooms all day getting our thesis together.”  
  
“That’s exactly what we should be doing,” Credence mutters and pulls out his own phone. “Our futures and all that.”  
  
“Project isn’t due for a long time,” Mina says with a shrug. “We can dedicate a little time to Mister Vampire Man. I think one of us should go talk to him.”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “What?” he asks, aghast. “Why?”  
  
His traitorous friends glance between each other before they nod and say together, “Credence.”  
  
“Definitely,” Lucy says with a smirk as he gapes at them in horror. “We’ve got to make a believer out of him.”  
  
Credence opens his mouth, then closes it. “Okay, first of all, I hate every one of you. And second, I am _definitely_ not going over to harass your neighbor. Besides, he’s lived here for five years, you’re more familiar with him.”  
  
“And I’ve believed he’s a vampire for all five of those years,” Lucy says. “He is kind of your type anyway.”  
  
“That is… that has nothing to do with this,” Credence says and scowls as they snicker. “I’m serious! I’m _not_ going over there.”  
  
——  
  
Graves opens his eyes to the sound of his doorbell. He frowns and glances at the clock on his nightstand and sees that it’s only ten. He’s ready to write it off as Sunday worshippers and go back to sleep when it rings again.  
  
A neighbor, probably. With a sigh, he climbs out of bed and pulls on a shirt before heading downstairs. He squints at the light that peeks through his various blackout curtains and prepares himself for the sun as he unlocks the door and opens it.  
  
Once he’s adjusted to it, he looks at the man standing on his doorstep. There are various things that happen at once.  
  
He smells chocolate and a sweeter scent beyond that, hidden under aftershave and days old cologne. The sweet scent of virgin blood, but it’s gone so suddenly that it nearly makes him reel, replaced with the stronger scent of arousal and… fucking _garlic._  
  
Through all of this he has managed to raise his eyebrows and take in the man’s face. College-aged, pale with dark hair, dark eyes, the column of his neck delightfully masculine under the cut of his jaw, and Graves sees his pulse pounding over the artery there.  
  
He’s nervous and if Graves can push past the garlic, he can smell his neighbor on him, Lucy, and other people too, and thinks he has an idea of who was spying on him earlier this morning.  
  
This all happens in a few short seconds and Graves smiles. “Can I help you?”  
  
The man swallows as he stares at Graves, then jerks a little, as if coming out of a stupor. “Oh, um…” he trails off. “We were up all night baking cookies and Lucy said to give some to her neighbors. These are for you.” He holds out a plate.  
  
Graves stares at him. It’s possibly the worst lie he’s heard in all his life and he wants to laugh, wants to tell him it, but he’s more amused by the fact that a few college kids have gotten it into their heads that he’s a vampire and are trying to suss him out.  
  
It hasn’t happened in a while, but it does occasionally, every other decade or so. He looks over the man’s shoulder and sees another college-aged man across the street, talking to the Lopez family, a similar plate in his hands.  
  
“Cookies, huh?” Graves asks as he gently takes the plate. He would ask if he’s armed with anything other than a head of garlic, but he doesn’t want to scare him off. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Uhh,” the man says, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Credence Barebone, sir.”  
  
“Credence,” Graves repeats as he looks over his face and doesn’t bother hiding that he’s doing so with interest. “The acceptance of something as true. Isn’t that right?”  
  
Credence’s mouth is open as he stares back at Graves. “Yes, sir,” he finally says. “A little unusual, I know.”  
  
“It fits you,” Graves says. “You look like a truth-seeker to me.”  
  
Credence’s eyebrows raise and Graves can see his pulse quicken at his neck. “Thank you,” he says though it sounds more like a question. “Well—”  
  
“What were you doing up all night baking cookies?” Graves asks with a friendly smile. Credence seems to flounder and Graves shrugs. “We just called it getting high when I was your age.”  
  
That brings out a more fetching blush. “That’s not what we were doing,” Credence says rather firmly. “We’re photography students. We were taking pictures for a project, that’s all.”  
  
An admirable recovery, Graves wants to tell him, but with a truth Credence hasn’t realized he’s admitted. But he merely smiles again. “Of course,” he says. “Thanks for the cookies, Mister Barebone. Give Lucy my regards. She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she?”  
  
There’s a spike of fear at that, nearly as intoxicating as the arousal had been, but Credence doesn’t show it. If anything he meets Graves’ eyes more confidently and stands closer to his full height.  
  
“She is,” Credence says. “One of my best friends.”  
  
“How nice. She’s lucky to have you,” Graves says and smiles. “Does that mean you’ll be around more often?”  
  
Credence swallows and bites his lip and the faintest hint of teeth would get Graves’ heart racing, if it could. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “But we’re… going out now. It was nice to meet you, Mister Graves.”  
  
“You as well, Mister Barebone,” Graves says and winks. “See you.”  
  
Graves watches Credence go and closes the door once he’s out of sight. He walks into the kitchen and sets the plate on the counter, looking down at the foil for a while.  
  
Cameras. The worst modern invention, he thinks, that has given him nothing but trouble.  
  
But, even if he’d like to sink his teeth into Credence’s neck, he is just a college student. They all are. They’re too young and will convince themselves they’re being paranoid soon and they will move on.  
  
It’s a modern world, after all, and there’s no such thing as vampires.  
  
——  
  
“Well?” Lucy asks eagerly, once Credence has sat down on the sofa, his friends surrounding him. “You saw the pictures before you went over there.”  
  
Credence looks helplessly between them. “Okay,” he sighs. “He might be a vampire.”  
  
They’re all much more excited than he is about it.  
  
They didn’t feel what he’d felt after all, they didn’t see the way Mister Graves looked at him, they didn’t feel like they were branded by his stare. Marked by it, in a way that makes him want to look over his shoulder, as if the man himself might be standing behind him. Like he’ll never be all that far from Credence now.  
  
It’s a strange mix of feelings in his stomach. He’s a bit terrified, a lot curious, and feels like he might also be a little mad.  
  
He hasn’t heard anything his friends have said about it, but when he looks up at them, they’re staring back at him.  
  
“What?” he asks weakly.  
  
“We should do something about it, shouldn’t we?” Quint asks. “Expose him? Run him out of the neighborhood?”  
  
“Oh, God,” Credence groans and covers his face with his hands. “We’re not even sure if he’s dangerous! And I don’t know, he could just be weird—”  
  
“Credence, you _look_ like you’ve seen a vampire,” Mina says sympathetically. “If he actually is one, he’s almost definitely dangerous. We should look into any crimes that have occurred around here.”  
  
Credence gapes as he drops his hands. “And what are we supposed to _do_ if we prove he’s a vampire? What can we possibly do about it? We are photography students!” he says, a little shrilly again. “Jon?”  
  
Jon crosses his arms over his chest and frowns, quiet. “I feel like, if it’s true, if it could _possibly_ be true, that we’re only going to find trouble if we do any digging. Credence is right, guys, we should leave well enough alone. He’s never caused any trouble in the last five years, right?”  
  
“Well… no,” Lucy says and frowns. “I do think my parents might kill me if we started bothering him.”  
  
“See?” Credence says desperately. “Let’s just forget this, okay? Please?”  
  
They look at him with concern, but they’re serious now, and Credence is thankful for it. He doesn’t want any of them near Mister Graves, whether he’s a vampire or not. He doesn’t want them to get mixed up like he is right now, because as much as he’d like to forget Mister Graves exists, he knows he won’t be able to.  
  
He’d seen the way those dark eyes had looked at him and while it was rather terrifying in the moment, he finds himself wanting to feel them again, feel them burning into his, into his skin.  
  
Whatever has happened to him, a spell or something worse, something electric in his blood, it does not feel like it will be easing anytime soon.  
  
——  
  
One of the good things about being him, and there are several, is that if he wants to go grocery shopping, he never has to deal with a crowd.  
  
Graves leaves at midnight to go to the local supermarket. He doesn’t have to eat, but he likes to eat, because he can still appreciate food the way he used to, so long ago. It’s stronger now, both because of his senses and the way the world has advanced, nothing like food from centuries ago.  
  
He’s thinking about steak when he glances in his rearview mirror and sees a familiar car behind him. It’s behind another car, but he’s been seeing that same vehicle for five years now and he sighs gently.  
  
He’s too old for this shit.  
  
It’s been over a week since Credence had shown up on his doorstep and he hasn’t seen any of the students since then, except Lucy. He had assumed they did what he thought they would and convinced themselves vampires weren’t real.  
  
Graves likes to keep that part of him away from where he lives, mostly. Hunting in the city or somewhere more rural, if he feels like making the drive, and working at the cemetery in the city, away from the neighborhood. He likes his home, he likes his neighbors, when he doesn’t have to put up with their endless smalltalk.  
  
He’s not the way he was so long ago. He had learned if he wanted to grow old and wise, he couldn’t be. Couldn’t be showy, couldn’t enjoy the fear like he did, couldn't enjoy a bloodbath.  
  
So, really, Graves is mostly just annoyed now.  
  
There’s only one person in the car, her blonde hair visible, and he might have been more receptive to being followed if Credence had been with her.  
  
He thinks about Credence often, wonders when his curiosity will drag him back, because Graves had planted that seed in him and he knows it will grow. He might resist it, but Graves doesn’t think he will.  
  
Graves parks his truck and gets out. He walks into the supermarket and grabs a basket and sets to shopping. He’s not sure if she’ll follow, if she’ll be that foolish, but she’s a stubborn girl, according to her parents, and when he’s walking down the spice aisle, he smells her perfume.  
  
“Oh, Lucy,” Graves sighs as he grabs his favorite steak seasoning and tosses it in his basket.  
  
He lets her think she’s being stealthy for a while, always keeps his back to her, but he loses her in the cereal aisle and walks briskly back around to the other end of it. Lucy is down at the end, pushing a cart gently out of the aisle, peering left and right as she looks for him. It would be so easy, he thinks with despair, so easy, and she doesn’t have any clue.  
  
“Hello, Lucy.”  
  
Lucy yelps and knocks against her cart as she whips around and looks up at him, her eyes wide. “Oh!” she gasps, clutching at her chest and looking wildly around for anyone else. “Oh, Mister Graves, you frightened me.”  
  
“I can see that,” Graves says with an amused smile. “Sorry. You’re here late for a school night.”  
  
Lucy is pale and her heart is beating so quickly that he wouldn’t be surprised if she went into a panic. Fear is rolling off of her in waves and it’s a pleasant smell, but he’s not interested.  
  
“Oh, I don’t have class tomorrow,” Lucy says and tucks her hair behind her ear with a trembling hand. “But I couldn’t sleep. Senior year and all that, so much to think about…”  
  
“Of course,” Graves says sympathetically. “It’ll be winter break soon, won’t it?” She nods, licking her lips, not meeting his eye. “Are you alright, Lucy? You seem a little jumpy.”  
  
Lucy swallows and shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Totally fine,” she says. “Just… losing a lot of sleep lately, is all.”  
  
“Mhmm,” he hums as he eyes her. “Just be careful. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t like to know you’re out by yourself this late at night. Dangerous for us all.”  
  
“Even you?” Lucy asks rather boldly, looking at him, but there’s a faint sheen of sweat across the top of her forehead.  
  
Graves smiles and shrugs. “I work at a cemetery. I know there’s plenty to fear in the dark,” he says. “But don’t let me keep you. You should get home.” He stops after he’s walked a few feet away and looks at her again. “Thanks for those cookies by the way. Your friend was interesting. Mister Barebone, wasn’t it?”  
  
Lucy nods warily as she stares at him.  
  
“A little heavy on the garlic aftershave,” Graves says and smiles as she pales a little bit more. “But a nice young man. If you’re going to be out late like this again, you should probably have someone like him with you, don’t you think? You never know who might be prowling around.”  
  
Graves leaves her then and doesn’t bother keeping an eye on where she is throughout the store as he finishes shopping. He pays and leaves, sees her car and smiles, wondering how long it might take her to get back home. Wonders if she’ll realize it’s not polite to follow people.  
  
Wonders if Credence will understand his message.  
  
——  
  
“Lucy, oh my God, it’s one in the—”  
  
“Credence.”  
  
Credence sits up at the sound of her voice, shaky and teary, and flips on his bedside lamp. “What? What happened?”  
  
“Oh my God,” Lucy sighs. “Umm, so… so Mister Graves doesn’t work on Mondays…”  
  
“Lucy,” Credence groans, rubbing his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t go talk to him. Are you hurt?”  
  
“No, no, just a little freaked out,” Lucy says. “I’m in the grocery store. I followed him here, he shops every Monday night, I think. I, umm, thought I was doing an okay job keeping distance from him, but he just… appeared out of nowhere!”  
  
“Did he hurt you?”  
  
“No!” Lucy says. “He was just strange. He doesn’t talk to me like that normally.”  
  
Credence licks his lips nervously. “Do you feel weird?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I don’t know… do you feel strange? Like something is different?”  
  
“I’m just _scared,_ Credence,” Lucy says moodily. “I think he was threatening me. He brought you up. He said I should have someone like you with me if I’m going to be out late like this.”  
  
“He’s got a point,” Credence grumbles, but Lucy only sniffs. “He knew you were following him, he was probably angry. You’re not going to do that again, okay?” When she’s hummed an affirmative, he sighs. “You shouldn’t drive home by yourself. Do you want me to call Jon or your dad?”  
  
Lucy scoffs. “Definitely not my dad,” she says, some of the fear in her voice dissipating. “Jon, I guess, but he’s gonna be pissed too. I’m sorry, I know this was stupid. Mister Graves did leave, though, I watched him drive out of the parking lot.”  
  
Credence shakes his head. “You’re still getting escorted home. What if he’s waiting for you?” he says, but as he says it, he knows it’s not true.  
  
Lucy didn’t feel the same way he had after speaking with Mister Graves. She never has, as far as he’s known, and he had brought _Credence_ up.  
  
“He smelled the garlic,” Lucy says, a few minutes later, after Credence has woken up Jon and listened to his litany of colorful curse words before he agreed to pick her up. “He made a mention of it.”  
  
“Well you cut an entire head in half, Luce, I think anyone would have smelled it,” Credence mutters. “And he wasn’t affected by it.”  
  
“But he brought it up so pointedly!”  
  
“Because he thinks we’re insane,” Credence says flatly. “Wouldn’t you? Trying to live your life and a bunch of twenty-somethings start waving garlic under your nose and following you to the grocery store?”  
  
Lucy giggles a little. “Well, when you put it that way,” she says dryly. “I think we should leave him alone.”  
  
Credence shakes his head. “If only you had thought that at the beginning of it,” he says. “Yes, Lucy, that’s what we should do. Forget about him, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Lucy says. “Fine. He said you were interesting, you know.”  
  
“Probably because of the garlic.”  
  
But it sets his heart off at a frantic pace anyway. It feels like Mister Graves has reached out to him through Lucy, in a way, like he wants Credence to feel his touch, hear his call.  
  
It doesn’t make any sense and yet Credence knows it’s true, because it feels right, because it makes him want to reach back.  
  
He thinks he must be going mad and hopes that, after this, any mention of Mister Graves will be forgotten, and he can continue to live his own life, away from the abnormal, away from the frightening, away from the cursed, the same thing he had hoped for when he was a child.  
  
Credence doesn’t get off the phone with Lucy until she’s safely with Jon.  
  
Once he hangs up his phone, he stares up at the dark ceiling, sleep eluding him, his skin beginning to feel clammy. It must be hours before he finally falls asleep and when he wakes again, gasping and clutching at his neck, the feeling of teeth sunken into it, he will realize the sun has long been in the sky and there is no one but him in his apartment.  
  
——  
  
They’re in the library again and as Credence blearily watches Jon puffed up in righteous indignation, arguing with Quint and Mina, he thinks he needs to find new friends.  
  
“He threatened her!” Jon hisses, for the seventh time. “What kind of guy does that to a young lady? He’s her neighbor, we can’t let him get away with that.”  
  
“Jon, it’s fine,” Lucy mumbles, her cheeks pink. “It was my fault. Wouldn’t you have been annoyed, if someone was following you?”  
  
“Yeah, but I’m not a fucking _vampire,”_ Jon says with enough gusto that several tables around them shush him. He scowls. “What if he tries to hurt her next?”  
  
Quint sighs as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “I don’t think he’s going to. Lucy and Credence have it right, if we leave him alone, he’ll leave us alone. It’s only because of our stupidity that he even looks twice at us. I’m not blaming you, Lucy,” he says when she sinks lower in her seat. “We all got a little excited.”  
  
“Except Credence,” Mina mutters and smirks wanly at him. “He’s the only one of us with any brains.”  
  
Credence wants to tell them they’re wrong. That he’s fairly sure his brains have actually been made into scrambled eggs lately, the way he can barely focus or think of anything but Percy Graves. Half the time he feels like he’s right next to him, about to sink his fangs into his neck, and it’s beginning to make him jumpy. He won’t tell them he wakes up every night from either a nightmare of being drained of all his blood or from a dream that leaves him hot and bothered.  
  
But he wants to tell them that something is happening to him. He just doesn’t think it’s a good idea, now that they’re all - almost - coming around to his side. To let things lie and move on with their lives.  
  
“You okay, bud?” Jon asks and Credence blinks, looking up at him. “You look like you’re coming down with something.”  
  
Credence realizes all of his friends are staring at him with concern and when he feels something wet slide down his temple, he is rather terrified it might be blood. But it’s not, when he wipes it away, and he looks at them again, and realizes he does feel feverish.  
  
“I think I might be getting the flu,” he mutters. “Sorry, guys, I should go back to the senior hall.”  
  
“Do you need any help?” Mina asks with a frown.  
  
“No, no,” Credence says. “I’ll be fine.” He gives them what he hopes is a winning smile, but he feels their eyes on him as he leaves the library.  
  
He walks out onto campus, everything too bright, the sunlight reflected off of the concrete burning his retinas, and the trees he passes swim in and out of his vision. He thinks he might not make it all the way back to his building, after all, and just when he’s found a bench and sunken down onto it, a vehicle pulls up in front of him.  
  
Credence looks up with a great amount of effort, squinting at the black truck, the windows tinted darkly. When the window lowers and he sees Mister Graves, he’s only a little surprised.  
  
“Oh, sweetheart,” Graves says as he frowns at Credence. “You shouldn’t have let it go on that long.” He gets out of the truck and approaches Credence, one hand on his shoulder and the other swiping over his forehead, his touch impossibly cool. “Come on, I’ll help you.”  
  
“Are you going to kill me?” Credence asks, but he finds himself rather helpless to do anything but get up and let Graves lead him around to the passenger side of the truck.  
  
“Hardly,” Graves chuckles, low and husky, and Credence’s head swims. “Stay with me now. Can you get in? Half your peers are going to see you fall on your ass if you can’t.”  
  
Credence frowns as he stares at the step hooked to the truck. “I can do it,” he says mulishly, and climbs in, trying not to blush when he feels Graves’ hands on his hips and thigh. He can’t quite manage to get the seatbelt on, so Graves does it for him, and when he closes the door, Credence leans heavily against it and winces when the other one closes. “What did you do to me?”  
  
The truck begins to move. “Nothing,” comes the answer, along with a soft touch, fingers in his hair, which is damp with sweat. But they’re cold and it feels so good that Credence pushes into them. “That’s right. Sweat it out and you’ll be fine.”  
  
“Sweat what out?” Credence asks and though his eyes are closed, he can still see flashes of sunlight through them as Graves drives him… somewhere.  
  
But he gets no answer. And shortly after that, everything turns black.  
  
It could be minutes or hours or days before Credence feels consciousness seeping back in. He’s warm, comfortably so, lying on something soft and yet firm. It takes him a while to open his eyes, just barely cracking them, and he sees that it’s still daylight out, but there are thick blackout curtains over the windows. He turns his head back and forth and sees that he’s in a large bedroom. It’s decorated nicely, besides being so dark, and there’s a door that must lead into the bathroom and another that must be a closet.  
  
It’s then that he remembers Mister Graves.  
  
Credence gasps as he sits up and flails his hands as he moves them to his neck, checking for any wounds, but there are none. He feels a little foolish after that, dropping his hands and looking over himself. He’s dressed the way he was when he was picked up and his clothes are a little stiff and uncomfortable, the way they get when he sweats through them.  
  
A fever. He’d had a fever and he doesn’t now, but he still feels vaguely ill, his head gently throbbing.  
  
That’s when the bedroom door opens.  
  
Credence flinches and looks at it in alarm.  
  
Mister Graves walks in, carrying a plate and a water bottle. He smiles at Credence, like he knew he had woken up and it’s not a surprise to see him sitting up.  
  
“Hello, Mister Barebone,” he says as he sets the plate down on the bedside table. With the water, he sets two tylenols next to them. “You, young man, are stubborn.”  
  
Credence blinks a few times, looking at the food, the medicine, then at Mister Graves himself. “What?” he finally asks, a bit weakly. “Did you kidnap me?”  
  
“No,” Graves says with a frown. “Saved you from an expensive hospital bill though. It would have taken them longer to break your fever, if they could at all, the point you let it get to.”  
  
“What did you do to me?” Credence asks suspiciously. “Why did I get like that?”  
  
Graves smirks a little and opens the water bottle, grabbing the pills, and handing them both to Credence. “They’re not poisoned,” he says dryly as Credence recoils. “You’re dehydrated and if you don’t have a headache yet, you will soon.”  
  
Credence’s head gives a pointed pulse at that and he winces. He takes the pills and the water and swallows them down. “You still haven’t told me what you did.”  
  
“I didn’t do anything,” Graves says and smiles as Credence shoots him a dirty look. “We did it together.”  
  
“And what does that mean?”  
  
“It means, Credence Barebone, that you liked what you saw and I liked what I saw,” Graves says. “But you resisted temptation. Good for you.”  
  
“You put me under a spell!” Credence accuses angrily.  
  
Graves’ eyebrows shoot up. “I’m not a witch,” he says. “If you accepted that you liked the connection, that’s on you.” He smiles a little and gestures at the plate of food. “Eat something. You’ll feel better.”  
  
“If I was going to die from that fever,” Credence says slowly. “How did you heal it?”  
  
Graves shrugs. “A bit of blood heals everything,” he says. When Credence only gapes at him in horror, he laughs and holds up his own hand. In the area between his index finger and thumb are two spots of blood. “It only took a couple drops. You feel better, don’t you?”  
  
Credence looks around the room. His only way to escape is through the door Graves had come in, he suspects, but the man himself will have to be out of the way before he can make a dive out of it.  
  
Graves tsks at him. “You’re not my prisoner,” he says. “Leave whenever you’d like. Eat the sandwich first though. Get a little bit of strength in you before you run off to your friends.”  
  
“They’re probably looking for me.”  
  
“Not likely. It’s only been three hours,” Graves says and smirks again as Credence eyes him suspiciously. “I would prefer if you told them to stop following me. I have no ill will toward any of your friends. But people who threaten me don’t tend to like reaping what they sow.”  
  
“You don’t care that we know?” Credence asks and finds he can’t look at Graves. “That we know what you are?”  
  
“Not really,” Graves says. “Unless it becomes a problem,” he adds more firmly. “But you’re not going to let that happen because it doesn’t need to be one. I am willing to go on living my life, if you and your friends are willing to go on living your lives.”  
  
Credence chews on his lip and wonders if that’s true. Would Graves just forget about all of this? Would his friends? Would _he?_ Not likely, he thinks, not with whatever the vampire has done to him, which he still feels burning under his skin. It’s not a fever anymore, but the same thing he felt after first meeting Percival Graves.  
  
“Is this going to happen to me again?” he asks slowly.  
  
“If you let it,” Graves says. “If you decide you don’t like the connection anymore, it won’t.”  
  
Credence doesn’t have any idea what that means. But his stomach growls and he reaches over, grabbing the plate and picking up half the sandwich, cut into triangles. It’s only ham and cheese, but thickly layered, and he eats with gusto, the way he always has after a fever has broken.  
  
“I’m going to be downstairs,” Graves says with some amusement. “Come down when you’re ready.”  
  
And he leaves, the door behind him staying open, and Credence watches him disappear down a set of stairs. He finishes the sandwich and gets up, quietly walking to the windows and glancing out. It’s Lucy’s street, not even three in the afternoon, he thinks, and there is some comfort in that. That he wasn’t taken somewhere unfamiliar.  
  
He hasn’t been disturbed, beyond his shoes being taken off and set near the end of the bed. He pulls them on and sits for a while on the edge of the bed, debating if he should make a break for it.  
  
Or if Mister Graves is really not interested in hurting him and he should stay and ask him questions. If he should satiate the burning curiosity he has felt from the moment he first saw him. If he does, maybe the connection will be broken, and he won’t have to worry about Percy Graves ever again.  
  
Fat chance, is what Mina would say, and he tries not to think about that.  
  
So he goes downstairs, carefully and quietly, and looks around the large house as he does so. It’s very dark, blackout curtains on every window, but there’s low lighting in the living room, from two lamps on either side of a large TV, which is turned on. Graves is sitting on the couch, his bare feet up on the coffee table, and he glances at Credence as he continues down the stairs.  
  
He merely smiles and looks at the TV again.  
  
Credence walks into the spacious living room and is struck by just how normal it is. It’s almost boring in its normalness, too clean and everything arranged just so, an aesthetic in mind, but an aesthetic he’s seen a thousand times. Even the pictures on the walls, in expensive frames, are boring.  
  
“Were you expecting a gothic castle?” Graves asks, amused, and Credence gets the faint feeling that he can read his mind.  
  
“No,” Credence mutters as he runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t know what I was expecting.” He frowns. “I wasn’t expecting _any_ of this, when my professor assigned us our project.”  
  
“Project?” Graves asks, an eyebrow raised.  
  
“Capture the Supernatural,” Credence recites and bites his lip when Graves chuckles. “Lucy said she thought you were a vampire and it spiraled a little out of control.”  
  
“I’d say,” Graves says but he’s smiling. “I wasn’t going to hurt her.”  
  
“Just scare her?” Credence asks archly, but Graves only shrugs, unrepentantly. “I know you weren’t. You’re not interested in her.”  
  
Graves smiles, like he’s pleased with Credence. “Ah,” he says. “So you did get my message.”  
  
Credence tentatively moves into the living room, into the dragon’s den, and sits on the edge of the sofa. “Why… are you interested, Mister Graves?”  
  
“Have you seen you?” Graves asks and chuckles again, when Credence’s cheeks flush. “Not only are you pleasing to the eye, but you’re interesting beyond that. The virgin blood helps too.”  
  
“Virgin?” Credence asks with a frown. “I’m not—”  
  
Graves sighs as he grabs the remote and mutes the TV. “You mortals always assume it has something to do with sex. It only means your blood hasn’t been consumed yet or used in a ritual. All those kids you knew in high school who got _really_ into Occultist activity? Sour, all of them,” he says with a grimace.  
  
Credence purses his lips and looks away, because he’s tempted to smile. But he doesn’t want to let his guard down. When he looks back at Graves, he sees that he’s being watched in return, those dark eyes unfathomable, but there’s something softer in them too. Something almost like affection.  
  
He thinks that’s more worrying than everything else has been so far.  
  
“Do you, umm…” Credence trails off and clears his throat. “Do you kill people?”  
  
Graves almost looks disappointed by the question. “There isn’t any real need these days,” he says slowly. “It used to be harder to get away with only feeding. But accidents do happen.”  
  
“Accidents.”  
  
“Well,” Graves says with a wry smirk. “Circumstances can change very quickly.”  
  
“You don’t want to kill me though,” Credence says, because if he’s confident of anything in his life, it’s this.  
  
Graves smiles, pleased again. “I don’t,” he says. “I’d like to seduce you.”  
  
Credence coughs a little. “What?” he asks, aghast. “Seduce me? You think I’m even remotely—”  
  
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Graves tsks. “You were so feverish with need you almost died. I’m afraid we’re far past pretending you have no interest.”  
  
Credence gapes at him for a while, then looks around the living room, as if he might find something conveniently lying around that will point him in the right direction. He glances back at Graves, who is merely peering at him curiously.  
  
“Does seducing me involve turning me into a vampire?”  
  
“No,” Graves says with a frown. “Preferably, but no.”  
  
Credence doesn’t think he believes him. “What does it involve then?”  
  
“Why ruin the surprise?” Graves asks and smirks. “I could show you. Not now,” he says dryly when Credence grimaces. “A proper seduction takes time.”  
  
“If you come near me after this, my friends might actually try to kill you,” Credence says, to move away from _seduction,_ because it’s making him flustered.  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “I’d love to see them try,” he says with a smile. “The thing about being so old, Credence, is you learn how to survive many, many different things. Including all the tricks in the book for vampires. I don’t die, but they keep piling up.”  
  
Credence feels a little ill at that. It’s not exactly a thinly-veiled threat, more shoved right in his face, and that more than anything steels his resolve. “Then I don’t want this connection anymore. I don’t like it.”  
  
Perhaps he expected to feel something, like a line being severed, but the feeling doesn’t come. He doesn’t feel any different at all, in fact, and realizes the blood beneath his skin is still burning.  
  
“Oh, Credence,” Graves sighs, with affection and amusement both, “you’re going to have to try harder than that.”  
  
——  
  
Credence takes the next day off. It’s easier this year to do, everything he needs to know online, and his professor emails him a quiz they had taken in class. He finishes it and submits it and uses the rest of the day to sit and think.  
  
His friends repeatedly text him and he tells them he came down with a bug and will see them on Saturday, when they meet up for coffee in Midtown. Lucy apologizes, saying that she’s sure it’s her fault he was ill, and he wants to tell her, yes, Lucy, _it absolutely is,_ but he doesn’t.  
  
He thinks about Graves. Percy, as he’d been told to call him. He’s not sure he can do that.  
  
He left the house without a scratch, nothing different about him except the burn under his skin, in his very blood. But he’s not a vampire, no puncture wounds on his neck, and he thinks he may actually have only gained an admirer.  
  
If Credence’s friends find out, they’re going to lose their minds. So he can’t tell them. Can never tell them. Never, ever, ever, ever.  
  
Of course, by that evening, he’s beginning to feel like his brains are scrambled again and when he looks in the mirror, his eyes have a strange sheen over them. Graves… Percy had said it would happen again, if he let it, but he doesn’t know how in the world he is letting this happen, when he doesn’t want it in the first place.  
  
But that thought doesn’t ease anything; if anything, it makes it worse.  
  
What had Percy called it? Need. _Feverish with need,_ he had said, and Credence feels vaguely ill as he considers what that means.  
  
He’s felt feverish with need before, by himself or with someone else, and the idea that he might have to achieve some relief the same way he did then is… well, it’s embarrassing, extremely embarrassing, and he hates Percy a little bit for it.  
  
Doesn’t mean he doesn’t try it, when he takes a shower that evening. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t work either.  
  
Credence leaves the bathroom, running his fingers through his damp hair, feeling more refreshed in a variety of ways, when he sees his phone light up with a message. He grabs it off the end of his bed and looks at the text.  
  
It’s Percy, who had somehow talked Credence into giving him his phone number, but he thankfully hasn’t messaged him. Well, until now.  
  
_Glad you figured it out. All better?_  
  
Credence yelps a little and throws his phone across the room.  
  
Saturday comes and Credence moodily stands in the Verizon store, squinting past his broken screen as he browses google for ways to kill vampires. Wooden stakes to the heart, but Percy had said everyone who had tried it before had, well, died, though he hadn’t said it directly. Maybe he could get a priest to bless Lucy’s pool and push Percy into it, see if he melted down to bone.  
  
He buys a new phone with what little money he has left for personal expenses. When the man had boredly asked if Credence was keeping his number or if he wanted a new one, Credence had muttered to keep it. He thinks Percy might show up on campus again if he changed his number.  
  
Credence walks a few blocks down to their preferred coffee shop and steps inside, the familiar aroma of roasted coffee an immediate balm to his conflicted heart. He sees his friends there, in their usual table in the corner, and orders a coffee for himself before he joins them.  
  
“Looking better, bud,” Jon says with a grin. “We didn’t think you’d make it home the other day.”  
  
“Somehow I did,” Credence says and the disbelief in his voice is entirely real.  
  
“Did you get a new phone?” Mina asks as she gestures at the bag Verizon had given him.  
  
Credence clears his throat. “Oh, yeah. When I was sick, I dropped it. Cracked the screen,” he says, to the various grimaces and sympathetic smiles of his friends. “How is everyone? Lucy?”  
  
She’s unusually quiet, biting her lip, looking down at her laptop. She shakes herself after a moment and smiles. “I’m fine,” she says. When Quint huffs, she frowns. “I am!”  
  
“No, she’s not,” Quint says. “She’s been googling Mister Graves endlessly even though we agreed to leave it alone.”  
  
“Oh, Luce,” Jon sighs. “Come on now, after the way he scared you?”  
  
Lucy sighs. “It’s not… it’s not that I want to talk to him or anything. I don’t,” she says. “But I keep finding his name. You wouldn’t think it would be him, some of these articles are over one hundred years old. The oldest one I’ve found is from 1887, New York City. Percival Graves is mentioned as one of the benefactors for the old Union Station that was built that year.”  
  
They all stare at her. Mina and Jon look like they pity her, while Quint only frowns thoughtfully, but Credence scoots his chair over and peers at the laptop screen with Lucy.  
  
“Oh, now he’s interested,” Mina mutters.  
  
“Have you found any pictures of Percival Graves?”  
  
“From before he was… you know? Not yet,” Lucy says. “I thought I’d go to the Public Library, browse through the newspaper archives.” Her eyes widen. “Why? Do you want to go with me?”  
  
Credence opens his mouth, then closes it as he notices his friends gaping at him. He rubs his hand over his face and jumps a little when the barista sets his coffee in front of him. He takes a quick sip of it and doesn’t even feel the burn.  
  
“Umm,” he finally manages. “I mean. It’s not bothering him, is it? It’s just looking to see if we can find him. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see a really old picture of him? Would kind of confirm it for us.”  
  
“I thought we didn’t need to know anything more than we do now,” Jon says as he narrows his eyes. “Have you been doing research on your own, Credence?”  
  
“No,” Credence says rather snappishly. “I haven’t. It’s history and history has always interested me.”  
  
Jon continues to eye him suspiciously before he sighs and shrugs as he looks at Mina. “Just history, I guess,” he says. “Well, you two have fun with that. We’re going to see a movie, if you decide you’d rather meet us there.”  
  
“That new Pixar one,” Quint clarifies when Credence frowns. “Supposed to be a real tear-jerker.”  
  
“Don’t worry, without Credence there, we won’t see any tears,” Mina says with a wry smirk as she stands. “You sure you two don’t want to come?”  
  
“I’m sure,” Lucy says with a smile. “Have fun.”  
  
Credence sips his coffee and waves as Jon and Quint follow Mina out of the shop. He looks at Lucy as he sets his cup down and chews on his lip as he watches her eyes race across the screen.  
  
“He hasn’t…?”  
  
“Haven’t even seen him again yet,” Lucy mutters distractedly. “But I think I’m going to put up a camera in my window. Tiny, so he can’t see it. See what he does throughout the night.”  
  
Credence gapes at her. “He will see it!” he hisses. “We’ve gone through this already. Stop invading his privacy and he’ll leave you alone.”  
  
Lucy throws him a wounded look. “What if he hurts someone someday and we could have stopped it?”  
  
“That’s not going to happen,” Credence says and shakes his head. “He hasn’t been involved with any crime in the last five years. No one has ever come knocking on his door, right? And… and who knows, maybe vampires don’t need to kill someone to get what they need anymore. Maybe they just need a little, to keep them going, you know, and he’s not actually a bad guy.”  
  
Lucy eyes him as he speaks. “Maybe,” she says slowly. “But we really can’t know.”  
  
Credence would cry, if he wasn’t feeling so frazzled by the mess he’s gotten himself into. He merely finishes his coffee and nods helplessly when she asks if he’s ready to go.  
  
They take a taxi down to the New York Public Library and go to the newspaper archives. It takes a long while to figure out exactly what they should be searching for, but the name Percival Graves does come up in a variety of ways, from the mid 1600s all the way up until the early 1900s, when the name suddenly disappears from all records.  
  
“The world was getting too modern,” Credence mutters as they discuss why that might be. “More pictures being taken, recordings, too. It would get suspicious, wouldn’t it? If he was… you know, before the invention of the camera, we’ll never spot him.”  
  
“I wonder when he became one,” Lucy says and chews her lip. “He sure made a name for himself all over the city, didn’t he?”  
  
Credence nods. “If that’s all the same man. He’s been in this city the entire time,” he says slowly. “Can you imagine watching the world change like that?”  
  
“I don’t think I would want to,” Lucy says as she wrinkles her nose. “Any friend you made would eventually die. It would be super lonely.”  
  
Credence thinks about that as they look at the last newspaper page they found his name on. It’s only another mention of a benefactor for building a new skyscraper. If it is Percy, if he’s been here this long, he doesn’t have anyone he’s close to. Unless there are other vampires, which Credence supposes there must be. Are they his friends? Does he see them?  
  
He gets the impression Percy doesn’t have many friends.  
  
“I think I wouldn’t want to live like that either,” he mutters. “Any family long dead, friends the same. Adapting to an evolving landscape and society.”  
  
“Almost makes you feel sorry for him, huh?” Lucy whispers, the way she wouldn’t in front of their other friends.  
  
“A little,” Credence says and smiles at her. “So maybe you shouldn’t put a camera up. Maybe you should just let him go on living his sad, friendless life.”  
  
Lucy laughs. “Oh,” she sighs as she smiles and shakes her head. “You just might be right, Credence.” She turns off the computer. “How about we go get some lunch, huh? I think I’m ready to put him behind me. Well, as much as I can, considering I’ll still be seeing him regularly.”  
  
“I think that’s a good idea,” Credence says. “And maybe if you act normal around him, he’ll act normal around you too.”  
  
“Let’s hope so,” Lucy says. “It’s too bad he’s actually a vampire. He totally would have been your type otherwise.”  
  
“Except being at least fifteen years older than me.”  
  
“He could have been _hundreds_ of years older than you.”  
  
“God forbid.”  
  
——  
  
The last week of September passes by in a blur. They’re starting to actually work on their project now, when they aren’t working on their own personal thesis, and Credence spends a lot of time outside of the residence halls, snapping picture after picture. His nights are late when he finally gets in, the editing process taking even longer.  
  
He would believe it’s all been a fever dream, if the, well, fever dreams didn’t keep sneaking up on him. He does what he has to but Percy is quiet when he does, not sending him any more text messages. In fact, he’s only texted Credence once since that first time, and it had been a breathtaking picture of the sunrise, taken from outside of the city, on what must have been a hill.  
  
Credence couldn’t ignore the fact that Percy took the picture for him while putting himself at risk to be uncomfortable in the sunlight.  
  
It’s such a strange thing to think about, an odd way to show affection, if it can be called that, but it makes his heart race either way.  
  
Mina is planning her annual Halloween party, which is always held at her brother’s house, who is only a few years older than her and has just as much Halloween spirit in him. He buys the alcohol if she supplies the decorations and food and Credence normally looks forward to it.  
  
His Freshman year he can’t remember, but he’s enjoyed himself otherwise. But this year… this year, he has a damn vampire to think about. A vampire that hasn’t started his supposed seduction yet and Credence thinks his interest in him must be waning, even if the connection is still there.  
  
Even if he still has dreams so vivid about him that he wakes up feeling the sting of teeth in his neck and nails dug into his thighs. It always takes Credence a while to realize it was only a dream on those mornings.  
  
Percy texts him at the beginning of the second week of October, when he’s about to go to bed, staring blankly at his laptop screen.  
  
_You look beautiful._  
  
After Credence has scrambled around making sure all the windows and doors are locked and has remembered he lives on the sixth floor of his building, when he looks outside, he texts back.  
  
_How do you know?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Because I know what you look like. Not because I’m staring at you through the blinds._  
  
Credence blushes and scowls, typing a few different variants of the word _asshole_ before he gives up.  
  
_Ha ha. I didn’t think you were. What do you want?_ _  
_ _  
_ _You, in a variety of ways. But right now I want you to open your door._ _  
_ _  
_ _I am definitely not doing that._ _  
_ _  
_ _I promise you won’t be disappointed._  
  
Credence takes in a deep breath and looks at his ceiling for a while. He doubts Percy is lingering outside in the hall - someone is always bound to be walking down it - and it would be something of an emergency if someone who didn’t live there was wandering the halls.  
  
So he stands up and creeps out into the living room. He looks out of the peep hole and sees nothing, so he unlocks the door and gently opens it, looking up and down the hall. There is no one there and he feels relieved and strangely disappointed.  
  
He’s about to close the door when he looks down and jumps a little in surprise. In a rather ornately blown black glass vase is a bouquet of what looks like black roses, at least twenty-four of them, but possibly more. He reaches down and picks up the vase, which is heavy, filled with water, and the scent of the flowers hits him. Floral and beautiful, delicate in the way roses are, but powerful all the same.  
  
Credence takes the bouquet into his bedroom and turns on the light so he can get a closer look at them. He thought he might have been seeing things, but they are truly almost completely black roses, with only a hint of crimson on their petals. The material that surrounds them is rich and crimson, like a normal red rose, and when he touches it, he’s surprised that it’s velvet, the texture as appealing as the roses themselves.  
  
He grabs his phone and sends Percy a text.  
  
_You WERE here._ _  
_ _  
_ _For a few minutes. Stayed long enough to see if you actually looked out of the blinds. You haven’t disappointed me yet, Credence._  
  
Credence shakes his head and rests his forehead in his hands for a while. He’s embarrassed, he’s angry, he’s flustered, and he’s more than a little flattered.  
  
_You’re an asshole._ _  
_ _  
_ _You haven’t seen me at asshole yet. Water them and they should stay alive for a while._ _  
_ _  
_ _I didn’t know there were roses that looked like this. They’re really nice._ _  
_ _  
_ _Hard to find. But worth it when you do._  
  
_I was starting to think you weren’t interested in seducing me anymore._ _  
_ _  
_ _I told you it takes time. Patience, sweetheart._ _  
_ _  
_ _Definitely don’t call me that._ _  
_ _  
_ _Sure, babycakes._ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m blocking you._ _  
_ _  
_ _What are you doing for Halloween?_ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m going to a party and you’re definitely not invited. Why? What do you do on Halloween? Hang from trees and hiss at passing children? Become a thousand bats and terrorize the countryside?_

 _Mostly I keep kids out of the cemetery by flashing them with my flashlight. But I like your pizazz._  
  
Credence giggles a little to himself, then promptly clamps his mouth shut and purses his lips tightly. He shakes his head and wills his heart to stop beating as quickly as it is.  
  
_That sounds boring. I’m going to get drunk and make bad decisions._  
  
Percy doesn’t text back right away and Credence is beginning to wonder if perhaps he went too far, insulted him, before he remembers that he should be glad to insult him. Glad to push him away. He wants to get through the school year in one piece and not have a vampire as an admirer.  
  
_Don’t get yourself into trouble. Don’t let anyone near your drinks either._  
  
Credence blinks down at his phone for a while before he furrows his brow. It’s not the response he was expecting, but really, he doesn’t know Percy Graves well at all. He shakes his head and decides it’s too late for any of this anyway.  
  
_I never do. Good night._ _  
_ _  
_ _Good night, Iubirea mea._  
  
Credence puts the roses on his desk and flips off the light before he climbs into bed. He squints as he reads through their conversation a few times before he googles whatever Percy had called him.  
  
He ends up laughing and, maybe, blushing just a little, before he rolls over and tries to fall asleep, smiling all the while.  
  
——  
  
The next unexpected gift comes when Credence is out with his friends. It’s Saturday again, and they’re out at their favorite coffee shop, discussing Halloween, which is this coming Friday.  
  
It’s hard to get any work done and even their professors have been more lenient on them over the last few days. Halloween is a very big deal on campus and it’s been decked out in various decorations by students and it warms Credence’s heart, whenever he walks through it.  
  
He never celebrated Halloween when he was a child. It was the devil’s holiday, as far as his adopted mother was concerned, and when he’d finally gotten away from her, it had taken another two years of religious guilt before he could step foot into his first Halloween celebration. It’s partly why he doesn’t remember his Freshman year party, but Jon had been there, at least, to protect him when he’d had way too much to drink in a short period of time.  
  
But now Credence has a natural affinity for it. There’s happiness to the holiday without being overly religious, like Christmas, with a focus on food but also sugar, something he wasn’t allowed to enjoy in his childhood either.  
  
“Of all of our costumes,” Mina is saying. “Credence is going to stand out the most.”  
  
“I’m objectively the most boring one out of all of you,” Credence says with a smile.  
  
“Jon is going as Hulk Hogan,” Quint says flatly. “Trust me, yours is much better.” He winces as Jon punches his shoulder, rubbing at it. “Lay off the ‘roids, man.”  
  
“He’s right though,” Jon agrees and grins as Quint scoffs. “Put you in that uniform and you look like you belong there, back with the greats.”  
  
Credence huffs a little, but he’s smiling as he looks down at his coffee. “I just didn’t want Lucy to put a pound of makeup on me again this year.”  
  
“A shame,” Lucy says as she gazes at him. “Your face is literally perfect for any and all makeup.”  
  
“Really,” Quint sighs in agreement. “One day I’ll convince you to do the _makeup through the ages_ project with me and Lucy.”  
  
Credence shakes his head as he lifts his coffee and takes a drink. He sets the cup down and is about to reply, but it’s an unfamiliar voice that speaks up from behind him.  
  
“Mister Barebone, isn’t it?”  
  
Credence blinks as he turns and looks at a man, who is dressed in an old timey bellhop sort of getup. Maroon suit and dark hat, gold lapel pin and all. “Er… who wants to know?” Credence asks.  
  
The man laughs. “He said you’d be suspicious,” he says. “Telegram for you, sir, from your admirer.” He holds it out toward Credence.  
  
His heart drops into the pit of his stomach, because he knows precisely who this has come from, not just from the ridiculous and absurd method of telegram, but because he only has one admirer.  
  
Credence takes the telegram, just so the man stops proffering it to him in increasingly exaggerated ways. Once he’s taken it, the man doffs his hat, and disappears out of the coffee shop. Credence stares after him before he slowly turns to look at his friends, who are all gaping at him.  
  
“Okay, that was the most extra thing I have seen in my life,” Mina declares. “Who the hell is sending you a telegram? Do people actually do that still?”  
  
“I’ve heard of Christmas telegrams,” Quint says as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “But this is definitely not one of those.”  
  
Credence stares down at the thick envelope, yellow and official looking, but still with a hint of age to it, as if it had traveled through time and space to reach him.  
  
“Who’s it from, Credence? You didn’t tell us you had a secret admirer, bud,” Jon says as he leans over the table curiously.  
  
“I didn’t know I did,” Credence says quickly. “Maybe it’s not safe to open.”  
  
“Are you expecting dirty pictures or do you think someone is trying to poison you?” Mina asks dryly. “I’m sure it’s cute or whatever.”  
  
Credence swallows. “I still think I’m going to wait until I get home,” he says and hastily tucks the telegram into his hoodie’s pocket, so no one is tempted to steal it from him. “If I have a secret admirer, it seems to be the polite thing to do,” he adds with a shrug as they send him various disappointed gazes.  
  
“Oh, fine,” Lucy says. “But if they end up being incredibly hot and romantic, please bring them to the Halloween party.”  
  
“No, thanks,” Credence laughs nervously. “They could be weird for all we know. I mean, who sends a telegram?”  
  
“Someone who is either willing to laugh at themselves,” Mina says, “or someone very fussy and really old. I hope Professor Shore hasn’t taken an interest in you.”  
  
They all shudder at that thought.  
  
“No,” Quint says. “Credence always gets the handsome admirers. Remember that guy right before Sophomore year ended?”  
  
“The bronzed Olympian?” Lucy asks with a gasp. “Oh, he was so nice to look at.”  
  
Credence groans. “Let’s not talk about him,” he says. “Anyone but him.”  
  
Jon nods. “He was a royal dick,” he says and winks at Credence. “Let’s make sure this guy isn’t too before we start inviting him places.”  
  
“Good idea,” Credence says. His hand is still in his pocket, holding the telegram, and his heart is racing. He thinks he’ll kill Percy, if he ever sees him again, but he finds himself wanting to run to the bathroom and open the telegram anyway. “What were we talking about?”  
  
His friends exchange a few amused glances, but conversation moves away from admirers and unfortunately handsome men. Credence doesn’t hear most of it and won’t realize until he’s back in his apartment that evening that perhaps he was a bit rude.  
  
But he does manage to wait until he gets inside before he pulls out the telegram and rips it open. He wants to cry when he sees the old type of cardstock it’s written on, thick and faded. It even says _Western Union._  
  
_I hope this finds you in good health._  
  
“Oh my God,” Credence groans.  
  
_I don’t really know where this will find you, it takes them a couple weeks to make and deliver it. Just like the old days._ _  
_ _  
_ _I would like to formally invite you to join me for dinner on All Hallows’ Day. You should be sober by then. Per Se at 7. I would offer to pick you up but I have a feeling you’ll deny me that pleasure._ _  
_ _  
_ _Please respond posthaste._ _  
_ _  
_ _PG_  
  
Credence stares down at it for a while, slowly shaking his head. “Oh my God,” he mutters again. “You are…” He trails off and fishes out his phone.  
  
_I thought vampires were only dramatic in the movies._  
  
It takes twenty minutes for Percy to respond and Credence spends most of that pacing his room and googling telegram services.  
  
_Depends on the vampire. But I suppose most of us are fond of theatrics, considering that was our only form of entertainment once upon a time ago._  
  
_Your theatrics found me when I was out with my friends._ _  
_ _  
_ _Getting a telegram in public is part of the charm._ _  
_ _  
_ _Except now they want to know who my secret admirer is, so thanks for that. You’re ridiculous._ _  
_ _  
_ _Thank you, I’m glad you think so. Y/N?_ _  
_ _  
_ _How can you afford Per Se working at the cemetery?_ _  
_ _  
_ _You might be surprised to learn I haven’t worked at the cemetery my entire life. Being intimately familiar with the Stock Exchange helps._ _  
_ _  
_ _Do I have to wear a jacket and tie?_ _  
_ _  
_ _And no jeans. I can take you shopping if you don’t own a suit._ _  
_ _  
_ _We could go to McDonald’s._ _  
_ _  
_ _Another day._  
  
Credence sighs as he lays on his bed and looks up at the ceiling for a while. The idea of going to such a fancy restaurant that you need a jacket and tie scares him a little. He’s used to being poor, to student loans that barely get him by, to the idea of a career that won’t make him rich anytime soon.  
  
It’s not the life he knows but he’s interested all the same. Percy has never been dressed in anything more than a soft cotton shirt and jeans (or pajama pants) when he’s seen him and he wonders what he looks like in a suit.  
  
An appealing thought, he can’t deny that.  
  
_Fine. But I’ll buy my own suit, so nowhere too expensive._ _  
_ _  
_ _Whatever you’d like._  
  
Credence sets his phone aside and groans as he covers his face with his hands. If Percy doesn’t kill him by draining him of his blood, he’s going to kill him with seduction.  
  
——  
  
The Halloween party is… fun. At first.  
  
Everyone enjoys his 1920s era New York Yankee uniform, though Mina makes him wear the ball cap backwards after she’s been at the punch bowl a few too many times. Credence doesn’t drink as much as he normally does, feeling on edge all night.  
  
He’s not sure why. He knows a lot of these people and spends most of the party with his friends anyway. Jon never drinks and always keeps an eye on Mina and Lucy, flexing his muscles whenever a man decides to repeatedly bother Mina. Lucy is a _hardcore lesbian,_ in her words, and typically laughs them away.  
  
Credence enjoys chatting with his friends and laughs as hard as all of them when Quint passes out on the couch around two in the morning. Jon keeps an eye on him too.  
  
But there’s something strange about it all, something that makes the hair on his neck and arms stand on end.  
  
Lucy disappears to the bar for one more drink, as they plan on leaving soon, and Credence watches her go, biting his lip. He decides to follow her and when he gets to the bar, manned by Mina’s brother, he’s glad he did.  
  
There’s a man standing behind Lucy as she chats with a woman dressed as Jessica Rabbit, exchanging compliments on their costumes, Lucy as Batgirl. As Credence approaches them, he sees the man’s hand move toward Lucy’s drink and with reflexes he didn’t know he had, he grabs his wrist and twists.  
  
There are various gasps and yelps as most people around see him do this and the man, who is a few years too old to even be a postgrad, looks at him with wide, fearful eyes, grunting in pain.  
  
“Keep him there, Credence,” Mina’s brother, Mike, says as he pulls out his phone. “That’s one for the police, pal.”  
  
Jon appears and helps Credence keep the man where he is as Mike calls for the end of the party. It’s nearly three, anyway, and no one complains as they begin to disperse.  
  
Credence feels his phone buzz against his leg but he doesn’t check it until over an hour later, when the police have come and taken his statement and arrested the man.  
  
Lucy is understandably shaken up, upstairs in Mike’s bedroom with Mina and Mike’s wife, Renee.  
  
Credence is… angry. He feels like if he knew how to throw a punch, he would have pummeled the guy, but there’s something deeper to it, something more primal, that makes him want to see the man bleed. They aren’t thoughts he normally has and he shakes himself when the police leave and pulls out his phone.  
  
_You’ve had me on edge all night. What happened?_  
  
Credence blinks down at the text for a while. He’s aware that this connection between them allows Percy to feel what he feels, in some way, but he didn’t realize he could feel anything beyond Credence’s sexual frustrations.  
  
_A man tried to dose Lucy’s drink and I caught him. I’ve been feeling weird all night and I felt like I should follow her and I saw him._ _  
_ _  
_ _Huh. Good for you._ _  
_ _  
_ _Why did I feel that way?_ _  
_ _  
_ _My blood, probably. I would have thought it would be out of your system by now._ _  
_ _  
_ _Why on earth would your blood make me feel that way?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Heightened senses. Heightened awareness of other people and their intentions. You smelled it on him, but probably not in the way I do. Interesting._ _  
_ _  
_ _This is what it’s like being you?_ _  
_  
_To a much lesser degree, yes._ _  
_ _  
_ _So you could have picked him out at the beginning of the party?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Yes. A little intoxicating, isn’t it?_ _  
_  
Credence doesn’t answer that, too shaken up himself, and checks on Lucy. She’s in a better mood now, ranting with Jon and Mina about how most guys are assholes, and Credence is happy to see it.  
  
None of them feel comfortable letting Lucy drive herself home, so they get into her car, Jon behind the wheel, Quint following behind with Mike, and it’s only when they’re halfway to her house that Credence realizes he’s going to see Percy’s place. It makes him a little nervous, the way everything about him makes him a little nervous, and he thinks about what it must be like to be him.  
  
To smell danger, to be able to stop it, if he wanted, and he wonders what else he might smell on people. Fear, probably, and Credence ruefully thinks he must enjoy that one.  
  
They walk Lucy to the door, successfully waking up her parents, and are invited inside to sober up if they need to, but they stick around, mostly to keep Lucy company, while she tells her parents what happened to their shock and outrage. They forbid her from anymore parties and she only smiles wryly, shrugging in agreement.  
  
After her father has shaken his hand and her mother has squeezed his cheeks, Credence excuses himself for some fresh air and steps outside. He walks to the tree in her yard and leans against it, looking up at Percy’s house, windows dark and no truck in the driveway.  
  
It’s a sudden and rather intense longing, directly in the middle of his chest, to see Percy, because he feels like he could get him on steadier ground. Clear his head, maybe, from what’s happened.  
  
And, Credence thinks weakly, when he sees headlights coming down the street, Percy really must be able to read his mind.  
  
Once Percy has parked the truck and gotten out, he gestures for Credence to come nearer and he is powerless against it and walks to him, taking his hand when he holds it out. Percy only leads him to his entryway, out of view of Lucy’s home, and he gently pushes Credence back against the wall.  
  
His dark eyes roam over him, looking for injuries, Credence suspects, and he only looks mildly satisfied to not see any.  
  
“You alright?” he asks and his voice does something to Credence, after not hearing it for a while.  
  
“Fine,” he croaks. “Just a little… I don’t know, it was a weird night.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Percy says as he moves his hand to Credence’s neck, cupping the back of it, but his thumb is resting over his artery, Credence thinks. Percy smiles wryly after a moment. “You don’t have to be afraid.”  
  
“You can’t blame me.”  
  
“...yes, I suppose you’re right, after tonight,” Percy says and there’s something softer in his eyes as he looks at Credence. “I’m not going to bite you unless you ask me to though.”  
  
Credence swallows roughly and the request is nearly on the tip of his tongue. Not to be bitten, he doesn’t think he wants that, but to feel a little of what he felt tonight, that made him feel stronger than he ever has.  
  
Percy can see it on him, he knows, and he peers at Credence curiously. “You’ll become addicted,” he warns. “Until you’re asking for it every day. Then you’ll ask me to turn you.”  
  
It’s like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on him at those words and Credence shakes himself out of it. He closes his eyes tightly and nods, reaching up to grasp Percy’s wrist.  
  
“Then don’t give it to me, even if I ask,” Credence says as he looks at him. “I don’t want that.”  
  
Percy merely smiles and looks Credence up and down again. He reaches out with his other hand, brushing his fingers along the costume, right over Credence’s heart. It’s a different sort of rush that goes through him now and Percy chuckles, low and husky, which doesn’t help.  
  
“One day,” Percy says quietly as he meets Credence’s eyes. “One day I’m going to lay you down and fuck you. Slow, the way you want it. I might even bite you then.”  
  
“I don’t want—”  
  
“You won’t turn unless I kill you, Credence,” Percy says, but there’s no amusement in his voice. Something firmer, something a little dangerous even, and Credence doesn’t understand that, and he doesn’t know why it thrills him. “You might be surprised how much you like to be bitten.”  
  
Credence blushes and he thinks his heart may just leap out of his chest and that he’s never been more aroused in his life. His lips are parted as he breathes in shallowly and Percy’s eyes fall to them and Credence thinks _yes, please, kiss me._ _  
_  
But when Percy leans in, he only moves his lips to Credence’s ear. “They’re looking for you. Don’t let them find you here,” he whispers and he does bite Credence, but it’s gentle, soft, against his earlobe.  
  
Credence thinks he could come from just that, the state he’s in, and lets out a rather pathetic little whimper until Percy is gone as quickly as he had come. He moves to his door as Credence hears Lucy’s own front door open, everyone chatting rather animatedly.  
  
He hurries down to the car and thanks whatever God might be out there that they don’t see him as he leans against Mike’s car, his heart pounding so hard he can feel his neck pulsing and moves his hand up, pressing gently against it, and tries to calm himself down.  
  
Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad.  
  
——  
  
Credence doesn’t wake up until nearly one in the afternoon. He takes his time showering and washing the night off in a few different ways and eats a bowl of cereal and drinks a cup of coffee.  
  
Once he feels reasonably human again and after he has checked on Lucy and everyone else, he texts Percy.  
  
He’s not sure if he sleeps or not. He’s not sure what’s really true about vampires or not, besides what Percy has told him so far, and wonders if he can ask him. If he’d tell him the truth. He thinks he’s told him the truth so far.  
  
_When do you want to go shopping?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Good afternoon. Whenever you’re ready._ _  
_ _  
_ _Won’t the sun melt you or something?_ _  
_ _  
_ _You watch too many movies. I’ll be fine._ _  
_ _  
_ _Pick me up around five at CP 72nd?_ _  
_ _  
_ _Sure._  
  
Credence spends the next few hours at his computer, editing photos for both their project and his thesis. It’s slow work, considering he keeps glancing at the clock every few minutes.  
  
But it gets to be near five and, after he puts on his best dress shoes, he locks up the apartment and takes a taxi to Central Park so he doesn’t dirty his shoes. He leans against the entrance on 72nd Street, watching people pass him by, stuck in their own little worlds. The innocent world, he thinks, where they don’t know vampires walk among them.  
  
He wonders if he’s ever met a vampire and didn’t know it. Percy had spoken as if there are others and he wonders again, how many. How they get away with being in hiding, if they have to drink human blood to stay alive. Surely if they leave victims alive and well, someone would eventually tell someone else about them?  
  
Credence decides he’ll ask Percy one day.  
  
It’s not long before his truck pulls up to the curb and Credence walks to it, opening the door and climbing in, decidedly not thinking about the last time he was in here.  
  
“Evening, sugar.”  
  
“I’m getting back out.”  
  
Percy chuckles and eases back into traffic before Credence can leap from the truck. “How are you feeling today?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Credence sighs and shrugs when Percy looks at him. “I am. It’s weird seeing you in sunglasses.”  
  
“Sun hurts my eyes,” Percy says. “I happen to think I look perfectly normal in them.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s what’s weird,” Credence says and smiles a little. “You’re not dressed for tonight.”  
  
“No, we’re going to have to hit my place after this,” Percy says and smiles, when he likely feels Credence’s spike of fear. “I’ll park in the garage. Wouldn’t want Lucy to know what a great matchmaker she is yet.”  
  
Credence huffs. “We’ll see about that,” he says, though he suspects it’s a lost cause at this point. He’s interested in Percy, who _is_ entirely unique.  
  
Percy parks in front of a store called _LS Mens Clothing._  
  
“This looks expensive,” Credence says flatly as he eyes the mannequins dressed in fancy suits in the windows.  
  
“It’s not Madison Avenue. Then we can talk expensive,” Percy says as he gets out of the truck and gestures for Credence to follow when he doesn’t immediately. “All of the reviews said this place was affordable.”  
  
“Oh? So _you_ normally shop on Madison Avenue.”  
  
“That’s where my tailor is, yes,” Percy says with a smirk as he looks at Credence.  
  
When they walk into the store, Credence is slightly more comforted, because it’s a casual setting, compared to other places he’s seen. There are numerous examples of suits and fabrics and they’re immediately approached by a man in a casual jacket and slacks, a measuring tape around his neck.  
  
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he says cheerfully. “How can we help you today?”  
  
“Ready made,” Percy says as he takes his sunglasses off. “Bit of a last minute occasion.”  
  
“Of course! They do tend to find us,” the man says and leads them to the left side of the store. “Is there anything in particular I can help you find?”  
  
“We’ve got it from here,” Percy says with a smile. “Thanks.”  
  
Once the man has left and Percy has started to look over the different suits that have already been made, Credence following along, a little lost, he says, “I thought they’d be more pushy.”  
  
“A tailor is never pushy,” Percy says absentmindedly. “That’s how they lose business.” He picks up a suit and presses it against Credence’s front before he frowns and puts it away. “How do you feel about maroon?”  
  
“Bad?” Credence guesses.  
  
Percy laughs and browses through a few more suits. “This should be about your size,” he says as he pulls out a suit that doesn’t look any different than any of the others to Credence. “Thin ties are all the rage these days, I’ll get you one.”  
  
Credence takes it and looks it over with a frown. He gasps when he sees the price tag and gapes at Percy. “I said inexpensive!”  
  
“Credence, my love, that is inexpensive. Don’t you put it back. Go to the dressing room, I’ll bring you a shirt.”  
  
After glaring at him for a while, Credence turns on his heel and walks to the dressing rooms. He grimaces as he steps inside. It’s the fanciest dressing room he’s ever been in before, dark hardwood floors and walls, with three mirrors and a leather chair. He shakes his head and hangs the suit up, getting his shoes and pants off before he pulls on the slacks.  
  
They’re nice, he supposes, though a little snug on his thighs, something he thinks was chosen purposefully by a certain vampire.  
  
Credence jumps when there’s a knock on the door.  
  
“Shirt and tie,” Percy says and hands them to Credence once he’s opened the door enough to grab them.  
  
“They’re maroon,” Credence groans. “Shouldn’t I wear a white shirt and black tie?”  
  
“Just try them on.”  
  
Credence grumbles as he yanks his shirt off and pulls on the soft, silky maroon shirt, buttoning it up. He puts the tie under his collar and grabs the jacket, pulling it on and buttoning it as well. Once he’s tied the tie, he straightens himself out and looks in the mirror critically.  
  
His heart beats a little faster.  
  
Percy was right, of course. The maroon stands out nicely against the black, the tie being the same color somehow only adding to it, fashionable, he thinks, the dark colors working with his pale skin and dark hair. He smooths his hair out a little more and frowns.  
  
He looks good and he doesn’t normally think that about himself. He’s never really understood what other people see in him, had it beaten into his head for most of his life that he was unworthy, and it’s alien, almost, thinking of himself as handsome.  
  
“Awful quiet in there.”  
  
Credence bites his lip and turns to the door, opening it and looking at Percy, who is standing a few feet away, his arms over his chest. Percy looks him over, slowly, from head to toe, and Credence knows he’s blushing, because Percy looks immensely pleased and even a little affected. Credence bites his lip harder so he doesn’t think about that, doesn’t think about how he wants Percy to join him in the dressing room and unravel him.  
  
Percy’s smirk screws his head on a little straighter though, because it makes him want to smack it off his face.  
  
“Patience,” he says as he approaches Credence. He moves his hands along his shoulders and arms and nods. “Nearly perfect fit. You look incredible, Credence.”  
  
“Is the maroon for you or me?” Credence asks flatly.  
  
“You,” Percy says and smiles, his hand moving to Credence’s neck, brushing over his artery again. “It’s not the color that does it for me.”  
  
Credence swallows but he knows there’s no use pretending he doesn’t like the touch. Percy can feel the way his heart is fluttering and the way he’s eyeing Credence’s neck, his eyes almost black, might kill him before anything else does.  
  
“I can’t afford this,” Credence mutters. “I couldn’t even afford the shirt.”  
  
“I suppose I’ll just have to buy it for you then,” Percy says and smiles a little, as Credence scowls. “You can pay me back, if it’ll make you feel better. With _money,_ Credence,” he tsks.  
  
Credence flushes and turns around, going back into the dressing room, ignoring Percy’s chuckling. He takes the suit back off, carefully, and arranges it and the shirt back on the hangers carefully. When he walks back out, he merely hands them to Percy, because, and he hates himself for this, he likes it. Wants to keep it. Wants to see the way Percy looks at him when he’s in it again.  
  
But Percy doesn’t make fun of him for it. He merely squeezes Credence’s shoulder and leads him to the counter to pay. The tailor heavily compliments the choices and makes a few remarks about Credence’s complexion that Percy cheerfully agrees with, and he tries not to melt to the floor.  
  
He’s glad to get out of the store and back into Percy’s truck, which feels like safer territory, and the irony doesn’t escape him.  
  
Credence knows the windows are heavily tinted but he still shrinks down a little in his seat when they get to Percy’s house and pull into the driveway. He does pull into the garage and Credence waits until it’s closed before he gets out and follows Percy into the house.  
  
“Bathroom is down that hall,” Percy says as he points. “I’ll be down in a few.”  
  
Credence watches him go upstairs and scolds himself for the desire to follow him. He’s never been a hugely sexual person, not unless he’s seeing someone for a while and trusts them, and that’s only happened a couple times. But he constantly feels on edge nowadays and it’s worse when he’s actually with Percy.  
  
He’s tempted to tell him he can keep seducing him romantically, but he’s there otherwise, and to get it over with already, please and thank you.  
  
Credence changes back into the suit after pulling off the price tags and looks at himself in the mirror. He likes it even more now, he thinks gloomily, and leaves the bathroom, wandering into the living room and squinting through the dark. He turns on a light switch when he finds it and gazes around the house more.  
  
The kitchen is large, even fancier than Lucy’s parents’ kitchen, and he wonders if Percy ever uses it. He wants to lean against the island, but he’s paranoid about wrinkling the suit, which is so pristine.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you become a more permanent fixture,” Percy’s voice says. “You look good here.”  
  
Credence looks at the stairs and feels his mouth go dry.  
  
Percy is wearing a three piece suit, though the jacket is tossed casually over his shoulder, and he’s straightening out his sleeves, putting in cufflinks.  
  
It’s a black suit, but the waistcoat somehow only makes him all the more handsome, and when Percy approaches him with a smirk, Credence knows he knows it. He’s a bastard, he thinks, but it’s more of a turn on than anything.  
  
He’ll blame their so-called connection on that.  
  
“We’ll see,” Credence manages to say, once he’s found his voice. “You look nice.”  
  
“Thank you,” Percy says with a more genuine smile. “You ready to go?”  
  
“Not really,” Credence says. “I get to choose where we go next.”  
  
“McDonald’s?” Percy asks very seriously.  
  
“It might be,” Credence says equally seriously. “You’d have to wear the same thing.”  
  
Percy laughs, with genuine amusement, some affection in it. “Come on,” he says and walks with Credence back out into the garage, pulling on his jacket as he goes.  
  
The restaurant is as fancy as Credence expected it to be. Everyone is dressed in their best, though most of the men there don’t look as good as Percy. The service is prompt and the waitstaff, of which there are quite a few, are kind and funny, rather than stuffy, as Credence had been expecting. Percy orders a bottle of champagne and helps Credence with each course that’s served.  
  
The plates are small, something he’d normally make fun of, but Percy does it for him, making him laugh while keeping him curious about it. He likes most of the courses, to his surprise, beyond a few strange things like marinated salsify root and pickled celery branch, and the champagne is a particular highlight for him, crisp and dry but flavorful.  
  
Dessert is his favorite, because it’s fresh fruit, sweeter than any he’s ever had, with chocolate fondue and ice cream with candies made in-house. He’s thankful for the lack of shaved black truffle on this course and Percy smiles when he tells him so.  
  
It’s when he accidentally nicks himself on the fondue fork as he’s putting it on his plate that things get a little overwhelming.  
  
There’s an instant panic that follows the brief shock of pain, due to the feeling of being stared at, the sense of danger that he felt just last night, and he looks up at Percy, suspecting it’s from him. But it’s not.  
  
Percy is merely gazing at him, one elbow on the table, rolling his index finger and thumb together, and he doesn’t look affected by the few droplets of blood on Credence’s finger. He almost looks bored.  
  
Credence slowly looks around and realizes that a few people around him, sitting at different tables, have gone quiet and are staring at him. His heart feels lodged in his throat and he presses his finger against his napkin, gently wrapping it as he looks warily between the almost lifeless stares of those around him.  
  
Percy merely turns his head in their direction and it’s like a switch has been turned off, as they turn back to their tables and resume talking and laughing, as if nothing strange had happened. As if nothing had happened at all.  
  
“What was that?” Credence asks weakly as he looks at Percy.  
  
Percy smiles humorlessly. “I think you know.”  
  
“Is this a local hangout?” Credence asks and it’s a bit shrill. “Is that why you brought me here?”  
  
“No,” Percy says calmly. “I brought you here because I enjoy it here and I knew you would too. I’m not the only one who enjoys fine dining.”  
  
“You aren’t acting like them.”  
  
Percy’s smile is more wry. “Subtly is learned over time,” he says. “They’re young. Well,” he adds with a dry chuckle, “relatively speaking.”  
  
“You should have told me,” Credence mutters.  
  
“You wouldn’t have been comfortable,” Percy says with a shrug. “I didn’t know you’d cut yourself either, Credence.” He smiles and holds out his hand.  
  
Credence doesn’t want to take it. Doesn’t want to expose his blood out in the open again. But he’s not as strong as he’d like to think, because he pulls off the napkin and gives Percy his hand, glancing warily around. No one looks at them and when Percy lets his hand go a moment later, he frowns as he realizes the sting is gone. He looks at his finger and gapes at it when he sees no wound.  
  
He looks at Percy, who merely smiles once more and winks, before he gestures their waiter over and asks for the bill.  
  
Once they’re back outside, Credence is glad for the cool air, letting it clear his head, calm his overactive nerves. It’s late, nearly eleven, and he breathes in deeply before he looks at Percy.  
  
“Why did they stop staring the way they did?”  
  
Percy looks as if he’s debating how to answer that. “They respect me,” he says slowly. “So they’ll respect you too.”  
  
Credence doesn’t think that’s the entire truth of it. He opens his mouth to say so before he closes it, deciding he’s not sure he _wants_ to hear the entire truth. It’s frightening enough knowing there are other vampires, let alone numerous, and he’s rethinking what he’s doing.  
  
What is he doing, exactly, getting involved with a vampire? It’s dangerous, he thinks that was proven well enough in the restaurant, and he can only imagine what his friends would have to say about it. He’s being an idiot, reckless and foolish, no matter how good it feels.  
  
He thinks it must be designed that way. To feel good, despite knowing you’re walking into danger, the same way taking street drugs might be, at the beginning.  
  
When Credence looks at Percy, he sees that he’s watching him, and he looks largely unreadable. He must sense what Credence is feeling but he doesn’t say anything about it, merely walks with Credence back to the truck and gets in.  
  
He’s not really paying attention, not until the truck stops again, and he looks out of the window at campus. Percy has parked far enough away from his building, which he appreciates, but it’s another reminder of what he’s doing.  
  
What he has to hide.  
  
And yet, some part of him still doesn’t want to get out of the truck.  
  
Credence looks at Percy. “Umm… thank you,” he says carefully. “I did have a good time.”  
  
“I’m glad,” Percy says with a faint smile. He leans in then and Credence’s breath hitches, but he only presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Good night, Credence.”  
  
“Good night,” Credence says and sounds a little breathless, to his mortification.  
  
He gets out of the truck and walks down the sidewalk toward his building and tries not to let it overwhelm him.  
  
——  
  
Graves watches Credence go and rubs his hand over his chin. It’s not how he would have chosen to end the evening, but it’s probably for the best. Credence needs time.  
  
They both need to be patient.  
  
The connection isn’t broken, it’s stronger, though Credence doesn’t realize it. It will only continue to grow, if Graves does this right, until Credence is connected to him like a lifeline. If it breaks after that, they’ll both be heavily damaged, and he knows the risk he’s taking.  
  
Knows the pain, if it goes sour, but knows he can recover from it. He would ensure Credence would too, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind and drives away. He goes out of the city and to another _local hangout,_ because he needs to feed. He’s had to feed a little more often lately, the way Credence has gotten his blood boiling.  
  
It might amuse him, the idea of Credence’s face, if he knew that, but it doesn’t. He finds himself wanting to hide it away from him, not make him face that part of his life, and it doesn’t sit well in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Graves is prepared to go as far as he needs to make Credence his, but he’s never felt quite like this before. The urge to protect him from the darker parts of his life, the parts that come with being what he is, is strong, but he also knows one day he won’t be able to.  
  
If Credence chooses to go down that path with him.  
  
He feeds from a donor, his usual, with sweet blood and an even sweeter smile, and pays her afterward. He doesn’t have it in him to go hunting tonight, hasn’t in a while, and wryly thinks that he’s become tamed over the last century.  
  
Graves visits the cemetery merely to make sure the dead have stayed dead and no one has snuck in for the variety of reasons they like to before he heads home.  
  
He doesn’t sleep, not through the rest of the night or the day, but thinks of Credence instead. He’s never really out of his mind and he’d pursue him with more tenacity if he was anyone else, but Credence is delicate, though Graves thinks he would object to that sentiment.  
  
But he is - Credence has been damaged in his life, Graves can smell it on him, and he suspects one day he will find out how and by who. He won’t ask, not yet, but it’s also why he won’t push him.  
  
Graves has all the time in the world.  
  
——  
  
Credence knows his friends are beginning to look at him strangely. He’s jumpy, on edge, constantly torn between choosing one path or another, and also keeps convincing himself everyone he meets is a vampire.  
  
A few days after his date with Percy, he invites them over for pizza and Netflix. His apartment is too small for all of them, but they make it work, and he feels his heart steadily begin to right.  
  
Lucy is her usual cheerful self and she doesn’t talk about Percy, thank God, and neither does anyone else. They talk about their project and their individual thesis’, they talk about Mina’s on-and-off boyfriend Shawn, Jon’s increasing obsession with the gym, Quint’s new glasses, which make his eyes look even larger. It’s the way it normally is, full of laughter and teasing, but the closeness Credence has always desired in his life, the easiness of true friendships.  
  
It’s what he needs and after everyone has left around midnight, he texts Percy good night, which he hasn’t done yet. They’ve only texted a few times and Credence is glad Percy is giving him space, even if it’s driving him a little crazy too.  
  
It’s not until the next night, after a day of classes and wandering around Manhattan photographing various things and people, that he realizes he might have made a mistake.  
  
He’s getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth, when he wanders to his desk and sees that the drawer on the left is open just a little. His heart skips a beat, but he must have done it himself, the way he keeps opening it nearly every day. But when he opens it now and stares down at the envelope the telegram came in, the card inside missing, he slowly pulls his toothbrush out of his mouth.  
  
“Shit,” he whispers and hurries into his bathroom to wash out his mouth.  
  
Credence walks through his apartment, just to make sure he didn’t leave it somewhere else, but he knows he didn’t. Knows he’s been too paranoid and has kept it in his drawer, knows that the only other person in his room was Mina, to use the bathroom last night. He tries not to panic.  
  
The only reason it’s missing is because Mina isn’t stupid. She would understand who it was from and she wouldn’t confront him in front of everyone else, but she also hadn’t said anything today. Had they been looking at him strangely? He doesn’t think so, but he has been stuck in his own head lately.  
  
He picks up his phone and stares down at Percy’s name.  
  
Should he tell him?  
  
Credence doesn’t think Percy will care, really, that he’s only keeping it away from Credence’s friends for his own sake, rather than feeling he needs to hide anything.  
  
He sets his phone down. No, he won’t tell Percy, not yet, not until he’s talked with his friends, who must think he’s insane right about now. He will convince them otherwise.  
  
Or maybe they can convince him he _is_ insane and that this is all a bad idea and he won’t have to tell Percy anything at all.  
  
Of course, Credence won’t realize he’s underestimated his friends until tomorrow.  
  
——  
  
Graves wanders through the cemetery around one in the morning, debating going into the city and finding something more interesting to do.  
  
He doesn’t find anything interesting here, rarely does, and only gives the graves he’s tossed an extra corpse into a cursory glance as he wanders back to security. He pauses as he reaches for the door when the scent of someone hits him.  
  
Someones, he thinks wryly, and they’re scents he knows.  
  
Graves smiles as he steps inside and glances at the computer screen showing the various views of cameras until he sees movement. There are two people sneaking over the fence and he tsks.  
  
“Oh, Credence,” he sighs as he turns the computer and lights off. He steps out into the night and closes the door behind him before he sets off down the soft drive, flashing the light from his flashlight occasionally, until he knows they’re following him.  
  
He steps onto the grass and walks behind one of the larger, older mausoleums on the grounds, and waits.  
  
Fear, yes, always so powerful, and anger too, but he finds that less sweet. He hasn’t met these two, not yet, and thought he would in a different way, but he can’t have everything he wants.  
  
“Where’d he go?” a soft male voice asks.  
  
“Be quiet,” another, deeper, says, then, “I don’t know. Come on.”  
  
Graves walks around the mausoleum as they begin to circle it and comes up behind them and thinks that Credence’s friends really do make it too easy. If it was a different time, they’d both be dead and wouldn’t have known what hit them.  
  
“I hope you know it’s illegal to trespass here.”  
  
The smaller man gasps as he whirls around and Graves shines his flashlight in his eyes, his own eyes on the other man, the much taller one, closely cut light brown hair and blue eyes, his strength obvious in his bearing, but also deeper down than that.  
  
Graves lowers his flashlight and blinks as he sees the man in glasses, shaggy brown hair falling over them, holding a large cross. He laughs and rubs his hand over his forehead. “Garlic and crosses,” he says with a smile. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to believe everything you read on the internet?”  
  
“We know you’re a vampire,” the one holding the cross says.  
  
“I surmised that myself some time ago, yes, but the cross is a bit of a giveaway.”  
  
“What have you done to Credence?” the other one asks angrily. “Have you brainwashed him?”  
  
“No,” Graves says. “He’s very willing all on his own.”  
  
It’s not all that surprising when he comes swinging at Graves, but Graves merely catches his fist and twists it behind his back. The fear comes from him then and Graves smiles. “Didn’t believe that part, did you?” he asks before he releases him with a shove and let’s him gather his dignity. “Now, boys. This is going to put a damper on our future relationships. Why don’t we talk about this like adults?”  
  
“You did something to him!” the one with the cross says - Quincey, Graves believes, which makes the other one Jon. “Credence was the most adamant about staying away from you, he’d never shack up with you.”  
  
“Can you lower the cross, please?” Graves asks. “Your arm is going to get tired.”  
  
“The power of Christ compels you!” Quincey says aggressively.  
  
Graves laughs then, loud and long, in a way he hasn’t in a while.  
  
“Shit,” Quincey says and lowers the cross as he looks at Jon helplessly.  
  
“I told you that wouldn’t work,” Jon mutters.  
  
“Oh, it works,” Graves says, still chuckling. “In exorcisms. I’m a different sort of beast.”  
  
Jon glares. “What did you do to Credence?” he demands.  
  
Graves eyes him for a while. “Credence told me you’re a good friend,” he says. “Been there for him the longest?”  
  
“That’s right,” Jon says firmly. “I know more about what he’s gone through in his life than you. He doesn’t need a _vampire_ hanging around him. He’s experienced hell already, I won’t let you put him through it again.”  
  
“What makes you think my intentions for Credence are so nefarious?”  
  
“The vampire thing,” Quincey says.  
  
“It’s Quincey, right?” Graves asks as he points at him.  
  
“I prefer Quint.”  
  
“Quint, my apologies,” Graves says and sighs as he tucks the flashlight into his pocket. “I’m surprised Credence told you,” he adds and raises his eyebrows as they glance at each other. “Ah, he didn’t.”  
  
Jon huffs. “I’m not sure he ever would have with your influence,” he says coldly. “Stay away from him.”  
  
Graves hums. “If Credence decides that’s what he wants, I will. But I’m leaving it up to him and I suggest you do the same.”  
  
“You’ve got him under some kind of spell. He’s been weird,” Quint says. “Credence can’t decide anything for himself with you around.”  
  
“I assure you he can,” Graves sighs. “Credence is not under any spell or brainwashed. You should talk to him. I think he would appreciate that more than this.”  
  
They both glare at him and he watches them curiously. Someday, he suspects, they will break bread at the same table, but that won’t be for a while yet. Graves sighs and walks toward them.  
  
“Alright, gentlemen,” Graves says. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never was really interested in writing a vampire AU. But Gradence is making me write things I never thought I would, so here we are, 60+k later. I'll post the second part tomorrow! If you enjoy this so far, I'd really love to hear from you!
> 
> Graves is going to soften up quite a lot soon because that's just what Credence does to him. :)


	2. Chapter 2

_ Have a good morning. _   
  
Credence squints as he looks at the text, barely awake, and sees that Percy sent it at two in the morning. He yawns and rubs his eyes and texts _ you too  _ back.   
  
It’s then that he remembers what he realized last night. Credence groans and gets out of bed, suddenly too filled with nervous energy to properly wake up, even though he feels a little ill too. He gets ready for class and nearly forgets his laptop on the way out of the door.   
  
Class is… normal, he supposes, though he keeps furtively glancing at his friends. They aren’t really doing anything other than the coursework but he occasionally sees them messaging each other through Skype and feels a little more ill. By the time their last class ends at three, Credence walks outside with them, into the cool autumn air, and hopes that one of them might suggest a movie or something, something that involves never speaking about it.   
  
It turns out they do have something in mind.   
  
Jon gestures at a large oak tree in the grass and Credence watches as they follow him and sit down in a circle, a spot left open for him. He looks warily between them and notices that Jon and Quint look particularly angry. He wonders what Percy would say, if he ran away then, all the way to his house, and it’s that thought that spurs him on.   
  
Credence sits down and tries not to feel like he’s joining a prayer circle. He rests his laptop case on his lap and looks at his friends, who are all peering back at him.   
  
“You know what this is about, Credence,” Mina says.   
  
“Yes,” he croaks.   
  
“Oh, good,” Jon says. “Then  _ what the fuck, man?” _   
  
Credence winces. “Okay, but—”   
  
“No, really, what the fuck?” Lucy demands. “After all that stuff you said! About leaving him alone, staying away from him!”   
  
“Why were you even going through my desk?” Credence asks Mina, anything to not have to explain himself for a few seconds.   
  
Mina huffs a dry laugh. “You left it wide open and I saw the telegram. Forgive me for being nosey, but I’m a little glad I was,” she says. “Credence, this is dangerous.”   
  
Credence swallows as he looks at Jon, who is staring down at his shoes, his brow furrowed. He looks up at Credence and shakes his head.   
  
“We went to see him last night. Me and Quint.”   
  
Credence’s jaw drops as he looks between them. Quint looks a bit embarrassed, his cheeks red, but Jon is stern and picking one grass blade out of the ground at a time.   
  
“You what?” he finally asks feebly.   
  
“We went to see him,” Jon replies. “At the cemetery.”   
  
“Oh my  _ God,”  _ Credence says. “Why?”   
  
“Why?” Mina demands. “Why? Oh, I don’t know, because he’s a fucking vampire taking interest in a college student? Yeah, we might not know about any crime or murder he’s committed, but do you really think he hasn’t? Credence, you have… you have been through so much in your life, he only promises to be more bad shit for you.”   
  
“Exactly,” Jon says. “Even if he hasn’t brainwashed you, you like him. You’re dating him, as far as we can tell, and I know that sometimes we feel more at home with people who treat us badly after—”   
  
“Don’t play psychologist with me,” Credence snaps angrily. They look taken aback and he scowls as he looks between them. “You could have talked to  _ me _ before you went to him! What were you even trying to accomplish?”   
  
Quint shrugs. “We wanted to hear from him what he was doing to you,” he says. “Not that we thought he’d admit it. We wanted to scare him off, Credence, the same way you’d want to if it was one of us.”   
  
Credence breathes in shallowly as he looks between them. “How’d it go?” he asks and knows his tone is mean. “How’d scaring him off go for you?”   
  
Jon shoots him a wounded look. “You’re welcome,” he says. “We didn’t hurt each other if that’s what you mean. He escorted us out of the cemetery and said we had to apologize to you and tell you how we feel. Plainly.”   
  
“Like you should have done to begin with,” Credence says and looks away, out across the courtyard. “I don’t think you understand how disrespectful it is to assume I have absolutely no agency of my own.”   
  
Quint coughs a little. “He basically said the same thing,” he mutters and shrugs as Jon mutters grudgingly. “Well, he did. You’ve been acting really weird, Cree, we thought he brainwashed you and if we talked to you, we wouldn’t get the truth.”   
  
“You still should have,” Credence says as he looks at them. “I’m not brainwashed. I’m not under a spell or— or anything like that. I’m confused and a little scared, the way I always am when a man shows interest in me, and yeah, maybe it’s more now, because of what he is, but I do like him. I do.”   
  
“What if he wants to turn you into a vampire?” Lucy asks, hushed.   
  
Credence shakes his head. “He’s not going to. That’s up to me,” he says and sighs as they exchange looks of horror. “And I don’t want that. At all. I don’t want to be a damn vampire, stop looking at me like that! I just like the way it feels, when I’m with him. He makes me feel good. Strong. More sure of myself. He cares about me, though I know you all won’t believe that.”   
  
“Don’t put words in our mouths, bud,” Jon says, slightly more softened. “It was pretty clear he cares about you.”   
  
“I get the feeling he would’ve killed us if he didn’t,” Quint says with a nervous laugh. “He’s freaky strong.”   
  
“Did you try to hurt him?” Credence asks shrilly.   
  
Mina snorts. “Worry about the vamp, not your friends. Nice.”   
  
Credence scowls, but before he can snap back, Jon waves Mina off.   
  
“It’s fine, Mina. I took a swing at him,” Jon says and looks uncomfortable. “He caught my fist like it was marshmallow. Scary.” As Credence gapes at him, Jon shrugs. “Quint tried to exorcise him.”   
  
Quint groans and covers his face with his hands. Soon Lucy is giggling and Mina tips her head back as she laughs. Jon smirks and when Credence looks between them all helplessly, he shrugs.   
  
“It’s pretty funny, in hindsight.”   
  
“Oh my God, he’s never going to let me live it down,” Credence complains. “You know he’s a vampire and not a demon, right?”   
  
“Well, I do now,” Quint says as he scowls at everyone. “I was hoping anything would work. I was thinking of you, you know!” He points at Credence as he begins to smile.   
  
He bites his lip instead and nods. “I know,” he says and sighs. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell any of you. I’m still a little wary myself, you know, I know he’s not normal. I’m in the middle of trying to decide what I want with him.”   
  
Mina hums. “You know if you stick with him, you’re just gonna get older and he’s gonna stay the same age, right?”   
  
“I’ve thought about it,” Credence mutters as he glances at Lucy, who gives him a sympathetic smile.   
  
“How do we know he isn’t trying to butter you up to turn you someday?” Jon asks. “Then  _ we _ grow old and you don’t, Credence.”   
  
“I know,” Credence sighs. “Which is why I don’t want that. I don’t think he’d do that to me. He’s too serious when he mentions it. He said he would never do it unless I asked him to.”   
  
“And I ask again, how do we know he isn’t trying to get you to that place?”   
  
Credence frowns and shakes his head. “He’s not,” he says quietly. When he sees them exchange wary glances, he sighs.  _ “He’s not. _ He has no friends that I know of, obviously he doesn’t have a partner, so he’s not out there turning people into vampires to be with them for all eternity. I get the feeling he’s only ever with people to feed off of them. He leaves them alive!” he adds a little shrilly as they grimace with horror. “He said vampires don’t kill very often anymore.”   
  
“Oh, not very often. Just occasionally, that makes it okay,” Mina says as she shakes her head. “Credence, come on. We can’t walk off moral ground here.”   
  
“I’m pretty sure killing people  _ makes _ them vampires,” Credence mutters. “So I think that’s the only reason they do kill people. At least these days.”   
  
“It seems to me, Credence, that if you have to keep defending him for things that wouldn’t be okay in a normal relationship, then it’s not a normal relationship,” Lucy says carefully.   
  
His friends nod in agreement and Credence looks between them, then down at his laptop case. It’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? His friends to talk sense into him, make him see the bigger picture, make him realize how bad all of this is.   
  
But he thinks about Percy. Percy in his handsome waistcoat, smiling and joking with Credence, just to make him laugh. Making Credence wait for anything more serious, wanting to take his time with him and do it right, seduce him properly.   
  
He thinks about the way Percy looks at him, the affection in his eyes, how soft they are, when Credence talks about his life, school, his friends. His interest in him.   
  
It’s not faked. Percy wants him, completely and in every way, even if he doesn’t turn him, and Credence knows it’s not for a darker reason. He knows that in the very heart of him.   
  
He’s just a man that wants a partner, the way Credence is a man that wants a partner.   
  
Credence sighs and rubs the back of his neck as he looks up at his friends, his stomach starting to feel queasy. “Just give me some time,” he says quietly. “I know you’re right. All of you. I do. Just give me the time to come to grips with it, alright?”   
  
Lucy nods and smiles. “Fair,” she says and looks at everyone else. “Right?”   
  
They nod and Jon reaches over, squeezing Credence’s knee. “We’re here for you, bud. You never have to go through anything alone. Whether it’s vampire courtship or Professor Abraham’s projects.”   
  
Credence smiles as his friends chuckle, but he doesn’t really feel it.   
  
He should be happy, he thinks. He should be glad they confirmed it for him, that this is a bad idea, that it can’t happen.   
  
The thing is, and Credence doesn’t think he can ever tell them this, but he thinks he decided that day in Percy’s house, when he’d recovered from his fever. When Percy told him he’d like to seduce him and Credence accepted.   
  
He decided that day that it was something he wants and he wants to agree with his friends, he does, but the longing for Percy now, as he sits under the oak tree, light dappled across the ground, is stronger than ever.   
  
Credence thanks his friends and tells them he’s sorry for being snappy and they forgive him, hug him, because they’re too damn good for him. He tells them he has work to catch up on and leaves to go back to the senior residence halls, knees weak. He pulls out his phone as he does and sends a text.   
  
_ Asshole. _   
  
It’s not until he’s inside his apartment that he gets a reply back.   
  
_ See if I wish you a good morning again. _   
  
_ I’m serious. You sent that because you knew what I was going to walk into. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ And because I wanted you to have a good morning despite it. Your friends asked me to leave it to them today. _   
  
_ How kind of you to think of them. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I thought you would prefer if I respected your friends’ wishes. My apologies, if that wasn’t the case. Are you alright? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ We’ll talk later. I’m going to take a nap. _   
  
Credence gets no response after that and with a sigh, he toes off his shoes and closes his bedroom door before he climbs into bed. He pulls the comforter over his head and wonders if Percy knows a way to turn back time, so they might have met in a different time, a different place.   
  
He wakes a few hours later, groggy and feeling even worse, and sees that the sun has gone down completely. It’s dark in his room and he lays there for a while, feeling ill, but not the way he gets when the connection is ignored for a little too long.   
  
After he’s tried to get a sandwich down and throws most of it back up, he checks his temperature and realizes he  _ is _ ill. He can tell it has nothing to do with Percy - it is flu season after all - and thinks about crawling into bed again. He’s beginning to get achy and he knows the chills will follow soon.   
  
_ I’m sick. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Is that what I’m feeling? It’s bizarre. How mortal of you. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Oh, Credence, I’m so sorry, my love, is there anything I can do? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Forgive me. Is there anything I can do? _   
  
Credence thinks about that for a while as he grabs a blanket from the sofa and wraps it around his shoulders. If he concentrates hard enough, he can see his friends standing in front of him, firmly telling him to lose Percy’s number.   
  
“Like, stat,” Quint says.   
  
Credence thinks that might be the fever and shakes himself. And, against all reason, he sends another text.   
  
_ Do you know how to take care of someone who probably has the flu? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ In a variety of ways, yes. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ The modern way, Percival. _   
  
_ I like moody you, very charming. Chicken noodle soup, cold cloths for your head, tylenol and a lot of rest, is what I’m led to believe. _   
  
_ Think you can handle it? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Can you make it outside in 15? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I think so. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Call me if you can’t. _   
  
Credence grabs his duffel bag and stuffs it with a few changes of pajamas and some toiletries. He can’t think much beyond that, realizes it when he’s trying to stuff his shirt in the bag while he’s still wearing it, and manages to find a hoodie to pull on. He wraps the blanket around himself again and makes his way out of the residence halls and outside, walking to the curb, shivering.   
  
He’s fairly sure he terrifies two Freshmen as they give him a wide berth, but he doesn’t care much, because Percy’s truck pulls up in front of him. He struggles with the door for a moment before he gets it open. Percy takes the duffel bag and tosses it in the back and holds his hand out.   
  
Credence takes it and climbs in, shutting the door behind him with a bit of effort before he burrows in his hoodie and blanket.   
  
Percy puts the back of his hand against his forehead and makes a gentle noise of concern. “That’s a bad one, sweetheart. This came on pretty suddenly?”   
  
“Mhmm.”   
  
“You had a strong reaction to my blood. Your immune system might’ve gone a little haywire as it was worked out,” Percy says.   
  
“So it’s your fault.”   
  
Percy chuckles and the noise rattles around in Credence’s brain, pleasant and a little disturbing.   
  
“Knock it off,” he says after a while of this.   
  
“Knock what off?”   
  
“You’re laughing.”   
  
“I assure you I’m not,” Percy says and Credence feels his hand on his forehead again, leaning into the touch. “Alright, it’s a cool bath for you when we get home.”   
  
Credence is only vaguely aware of the rest of the drive, of getting to Percy’s house and out of the truck. The walk upstairs seems to last a very long time and when they get in the bathroom - Credence swears it’s the length of a football field, but Percy tells him it’s really not - he passes the toilet and decides to take advantage of it by throwing up his insides.   
  
The next thing Credence is aware of is icy coldness and shaking enough to rattle his teeth, looking blearily around the bathroom and seeing Percy sitting on the edge of the bathtub.   
  
“Blood,” Credence says.   
  
“Not yet, Credence,” Percy answers, his voice far away. “Not unless it gets beyond what I can do for you here.”   
  
“I want it though.”   
  
“Shh, shh. Let’s see if we can work it down ourselves.”   
  
After that, well, after that, Credence doesn’t remember a thing.   
  
——   
  
Credence wakes slowly, drifting in and out of strange dreams that seem real one moment and not the next. He’s warm, wrapped in blankets and a thick comforter, he thinks, or maybe a cocoon.   
  
When he remembers he is not, in fact, a caterpillar, consciousness seeps back in and he cracks his eyes open. The comforter is pulled up to his nose and he’s on his side, curled into a ball, but it’s possibly the most comfortable he’s been in ages.   
  
The room is dark beyond a soft light coming from behind him and he tenses when he hears the sound of a page being turned in a book. A hand rests over his shoulder.   
  
“It’s me,” Percy’s voice says.   
  
Credence relaxes and thinks that should worry him, but he just doesn’t give a damn right now. He slowly stretches, wincing, his muscles still achy, and rolls over onto his back, looking up at Percy. He’s sitting up, leaning back against a few pillows and the headboard, reading a book. He glances at Credence and smiles.   
  
“Welcome back to the real world.”   
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that sick before,” Credence whispers, his throat sore and dry. “What time is it?”   
  
“Five,” Graves says and chuckles at Credence’s frown. “In the morning. Your fever broke around one. A good thing too, I was starting to believe the things you were telling me were just a bunch of nonsense.”   
  
Credence groans a little and rolls onto his side, nestling closer to Percy’s hip. “I don’t want to know what I said,” he says croakily. “Thanks for helping me.”   
  
“Sit up.”   
  
“No.”   
  
“You need water.”   
  
Credence sighs and with quite a lot of effort, his muscles weak and body tired, he pushes himself up and looks down at his shirt. It’s not his, he realizes, but Percy’s, soft cotton and comfortable. “I packed pajamas.”   
  
Percy laughs. “Is that what those were supposed to be?” he asks. “You packed seven pairs of boxers and three jeans and exactly one extremely faded  _ My Chemical Romance _ shirt, but no pajamas. Your toothbrush made it in though.”   
  
Credence groans, but he laughs, when Percy does again. “Shut up, I’m sick,” he says and takes the water bottle and tylenol offered to him. He swallows the pills and drinks half of the water bottle before he leans back against the headboard. “Did you put me in an ice bath?”   
  
“I put you in a slightly cool bath,” Percy says. “Your fever was dangerously high for a while.”   
  
“Hmm,” Credence hums as he scrubs at his eyes and looks around the room. He glances at Percy, his ears warm. “You saw me naked.”   
  
“Not how I would have chosen to do so for the first time,” Percy says mildly. “I did try to give you some dignity.”   
  
“But you saw.”   
  
Percy gazes at him, something soft in his eyes, but not pitying. Just affection. “I did,” he says.   
  
“You don’t sound surprised,” Credence says hesitantly.   
  
“I know your childhood was not… ideal,” Percy says slowly. “Far from it. That’s easy to pick up on. Your friend Jon alluded to you having experienced hell.”   
  
Credence grimaces. “I’m sorry they came to you like that.”   
  
“I’m not,” Percy says and smiles as Credence eyes him. “It’s a comfort for me, you know. To know you have good people in your life. That the ones who left their marks on you are gone.”   
  
Credence looks down at his lap and chews on his lower lip. “Just my mother. Well, my adopted mother,” he says. “She was in prison until last year for it.”   
  
“Where is she now?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Credence says as he looks at Percy and smiles a little. “Not anywhere near me.”   
  
Percy smiles back, but there’s something darker in his eyes, something sharper that curves his mouth. Credence has the distinct impression that he’s imagining what he would do to Credence’s mother if he had the opportunity. It makes him huff a laugh and he leans gently into him, until Percy wraps his arm around his shoulders.   
  
He still feels ill and suspects he will for a couple days, especially if the fever comes back. But for now, he’s comfortable and warm, and Percy’s skin is cool, cooler than most people’s, but he likes it. He wants to feel more of it but he’s steadily beginning to grow tired again and after Percy coaxes him into drinking a little more water, he tucks him back into bed.   
  
“Sleep. I’ll be close.”   
  
“Thank you,” Credence whispers.   
  
He falls asleep to Percy’s fingers gently moving through his hair.   
  
——   
  
Graves helps Credence work through two more spikes of his temperature, though they are both not nearly as severe. They only leave Credence shaky and moody, but otherwise himself, and Graves feeds him soup and puts cold washcloths on his forehead.   
  
He feels badly for Credence. He supposes he had to have been sick at some point, though he can’t remember it, and is glad the blood that sits in his veins is too dead to pick up any illness.   
  
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like caring for Credence. He does, he enjoys him here, enjoys seeing him in his bed, in his home. Credence’s friends have texted him and Graves doesn’t know what he replies back, but he doesn’t get any more messages, so he suspects it wasn’t the complete truth.   
  
Graves can smell the conflict in him, radiating off of him in waves occasionally, disappearing shortly after. He won’t ask, won’t push, but he’s confident that Credence has not chosen to move away from him. Graves knows this as well as he knows himself, but he doesn’t want to see Credence lose friends.   
  
Which means, at some point, he’s going to have to play nice.   
  
But that’s for another day, he thinks, as he stares down at the fresh pot of chicken noodle soup on the stove. He tastes it before covering it and turning the heat to low. He’s about to sit down on the sofa when he hears his shower turn on and isn’t sure if it’s because Credence wants to wash off the sweat or if he’s running another fever.   
  
Graves walks upstairs and into his bedroom and to the closed bathroom door. He knocks gently. “Okay?”   
  
“Yeah,” Credence answers and sounds better than he has all day. “I hope you don’t mind if I shower. I’m gross.”   
  
“I’m eager to wash my sheets, to be honest.”   
  
Credence chuckles and though he does sound better, it’s tired. “Can I stay one more night? I need to get to class tomorrow, I can’t miss any more time this semester.”   
  
“Stay as long as you’d like,” Graves says. “I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything.”   
  
“I could use a little help.”   
  
“With?”   
  
“I’m trying to figure out this showerhead.”   
  
Graves chuckles. “Are you decent?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
Graves opens the door and steps inside. The shower is separated from the tub and is large, with three glass walls and tiled at the wall, the showerhead directly in the middle of the ceiling above it.   
  
“Too much pressure?” he asks and smiles as Credence nods, standing outside of the open shower door, missing his shirt. Graves doesn’t know if Credence has merely given up hiding the scars or if he’s allowing Graves to see them, giving him something he doubts few others have been given.   
  
Graves reaches in the shower and pulls the lever out until it clicks into place. He adjusts it back and forth so Credence can see the difference in pressure and laughs at the look on his face.   
  
“Came with the house,” he says.   
  
“Why did you have the pressure so high?”   
  
“Makes me feel alive.”   
  
Credence snorts and shakes his head. “Thanks,” he says and reaches in to adjust the pressure and temperature himself. “Do you want to join me?”   
  
Graves blinks once and suspects his heart would make a leap, if it was still beating. He looks at Credence, who is still looking at the showerhead and reaches up, cupping his jaw and gently coaxing him to look at him.   
  
“Do you want me to join you?”   
  
Credence huffs a little. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” he says. “I think it’d be nice. I’ve never showered with anyone before.”   
  
Graves chuckles. “Fair enough,” he says and steps back to give Credence room. Credence shoots him a bit of a look but he drops his pajama pants - an inch short at the ankle, but it still gives Graves a little thrill, to see Credence in his clothes - and walks into the shower. He adjusts the temperature again and Graves watches him, heat pooling in his stomach. He smells it on Credence too.   
  
Graves undresses and feels Credence’s eyes on him as he does. He smiles as he steps out of his boxers and moves into the shower with Credence, big enough for four, and closes the door behind himself.   
  
Credence looks him up and down, eyes lingering downward, and back up again, biting his lip. He steps under the water and lets it wet his hair and Graves takes the opportunity to take in Credence himself.   
  
He’s so pale, but there’s a pinkness to him, his blood, and Graves’ mouth waters, the idea of it. He wants to taste Credence, desperately, but he’s not sure Credence is ready for that sort of taste.   
  
His cock is half-hard, long and uncircumcised and Graves sighs with another longing as he moves closer, stepping behind Credence. He moves his hands to his shoulders and Credence only tenses for a brief moment before relaxing again, and Graves moves his hands down along his back, digging his thumbs in near his spine.   
  
The scars are numerous, lashes from a belt he’s sure, and on Credence’s shoulders they are thicker, like something sharper had been taken to him, dug into his skin. Graves closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, to get rid of his anger, and looks at Credence again, moving his hands back to his shoulders and gently massaging them.   
  
Credence is pliant under his hands, hanging his head with satisfaction and humming his approval at certain spots.   
  
Graves chuckles. “You’re beautiful, Credence,” he says. Credence makes a noise like he disagrees and Graves smacks his ass, which earns him a little yelp. “You are.”   
  
“Thanks,” Credence says dryly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”   
  
“Not so bad, he says,” Graves repeats with good humor, moving closer, sliding his hands around to Credence’s chest. He rests one of them over his heart so he can feel it beating, firm and alive, the other on his stomach, and leans in, breathing in the scent of his skin.   
  
He’s still sick, a little sour from it and the sweat, but the sweetness is there, the sweetness of virgin blood and arousal, stronger now, and he gently kisses Credence’s shoulder. He moves his lips along to the nape of his neck and sucks a bruise there, which Credence gasps at, reaching up to grasp at Graves’ wrists.   
  
Graves runs his fingers along Credence’s stomach and Credence keeps holding his wrist, more loosely now, not stopping him. He brushes his thumb against Credence’s belly button and moves further down, rubbing over his hip bone and listening to Credence’s breath hitch. He moves back up again and gently pinches a nipple, rolling it until Credence moans and shudders against him.   
  
Graves turns them, pushing Credence up against the wall and presses flush to his back.   
  
“Oh, God,” Credence whispers, pressing one hand flat against the wall. “Please, Percy.”   
  
“Please what?” Graves asks as he pushes his hardening cock more firmly against Credence’s ass, nestling in between his cheeks.   
  
“Touch me,” Credence whispers.   
  
“Am I not?” Graves asks with a smile, moving his hand down to Credence’s hip again, slowly circling his fingers closer to his crotch. “Tell me what you want me to do.”   
  
Credence moans. “I want you to jerk me off,” he says quietly and presses his forehead against the tiles, warmed now by steam. His ears are charmingly red. “I want to watch you do it.”   
  
Graves smiles, pleased. “I like that idea,” he whispers into Credence’s ear. He pulls the earlobe into his mouth, nipping at it and running his tongue over it, Credence’s gasps and whimpers the sweetest music to his ears.   
  
He moves his hand to Credence’s cock, full now, hard and hot, and wraps his hand around him, at the base. He moves slowly, dragging his hand up to just under the tip and back down again, kissing along Credence’s shoulder again as he takes in every moan and whine, the plea to move faster, the shudders that move through Credence’s body.   
  
“Shh, shh,” Graves shushes, when Credence begins to sound more frantic with need. “I’ve got you.”   
  
He speeds his hand up, until Credence lets out a broken sob and he nibbles at the skin on the nape of his neck. He presses his teeth there, gently biting, and Credence stiffens up, but not in fear.   
  
“Do it,” he says a bit wildly. “Percy, do it.”   
  
Those words alone threaten to do Graves in and he grinds himself against Credence, wishing he was buried in him, fucking him up against the wall, giving him something to feel tomorrow.   
  
“Are you sure?” he asks as he continues to stroke Credence, his movements slower now.   
  
“Yes!” Credence says rather impatiently and pushes back against Graves. “Do it, please. I want to feel it.”

There’s no lie in his voice.   
  
Graves closes his eyes and tips his head back before he opens his mouth and lets his fangs drop. He moves back to Credence’s neck and strokes him harder, faster now, until Credence is twitching and begging him more sweetly, more direly.   
  
He presses his lips to Credence’s skin again before he opens his mouth and sinks his fangs into the nape of his neck. Blood floods his mouth and he moans as he tastes Credence for the first time, tastes the sweetness of him, his arousal and his very essence, the purity of his virgin blood.   
  
Credence all but screams, from the pain of it, the shock, and from the orgasm that’s ripped out of him. He pulses in Graves’ hand and he feels Credence’s come, hot, dripping over his hand as he holds him through it.   
  
Graves doesn’t pull more blood out, as much as he wants to, merely licks up what Credence’s body gives him after he’s pulled his fangs out, his head fuzzy with desire, with pleasure, with Credence.   
  
“What does it taste like?” Credence asks through heaving breaths, his body beginning to tremble.   
  
“Like you,” Graves whispers and licks gently at the wound as it beads up with more blood. He groans and grinds himself against Credence’s ass. “I’m going to feed on you when I fuck you.”   
  
Credence shivers and tips his head back, against Graves’ shoulder, wincing a little as Graves kisses the wounds. “I want to make you come,” he whispers. “How do you want it?”   
  
“Back up a little,” Graves says, his voice hoarse as he moves away. “Bend over.”   
  
Credence does so, self-conscious with every movement, and Graves chuckles.   
  
“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know, do you? What you do to me?” he asks as he grabs his body wash and squirts a little into his hand. He spreads it over his cock and moves behind Credence. “Put your thighs together.”   
  
“Oh,” Credence whispers. “Yes.” He does so, pressing his thighs together, and gasps when Graves gently presses himself between them, just under his balls. “Percy…”   
  
“Beautiful,” Percy whispers as he looks at a few more beads of blood on Credence’s neck. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over them and licks them as he begins to thrust. “I’m going to be in you next time we do this. You’ll come more than once, with me sucking that blood out of you.”   
  
Credence whimpers, his fingers tightening against the tiles, his knuckles white.   
  
It doesn’t take much, looking between Credence’s pert ass and the wound on his shoulder. He spreads Credence’s ass cheeks a bit, just so he can brush his thumb over his hole, and the moan he gets from him, the gasp of his name, is enough. He thrusts two more times and comes with a long, drawn out grunt.   
  
He bends over and kisses Credence’s shoulder blade, breathing heavily against his warm skin, pressing his forehead against him. He pulls away and lets Credence stand straight. His knees are a bit wobbly when he turns and looks at Graves, his eyes half lidded.   
  
“Come here,” Graves says as he puts his hands on Credence’s shoulders and draws him in. And he kisses him then, passionate and deep, and he knows Credence must taste the blood, but he doesn’t pull away.   
  
Kisses back, tongue roaming Graves’ mouth and fangs, and moans when Graves squeezes his ass. Graves nips gently at his lower lip when he pulls back and looks at Credence, sees those dark eyes staring back at him, and grins.   
  
Credence sees the hint of his teeth and though he goes a little pale, there’s arousal in the air again, and he licks his lips, shaking his head.   
  
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” he whispers, but sounds awed, and a little helpless too.   
  
Graves smiles and runs his hand over the puncture wounds, until they close and only two bright red marks are left.    
  
Credence reaches for him then and brushes his thumb against the corner of Graves’ mouth and along his chin. When he touches Graves’ mouth, he takes his thumb into it and licks the last bit of blood away.   
  
——   
  
Credence sits on the sofa with Percy, curled into his side, and watches Netflix.   
  
He feels better, but he thinks he’s going to need another night of sleep before he’s himself again. He yawns when he sees that it’s approaching eleven and stares at the clock above the TV for a while.   
  
Credence has failed, he knows. Failed his friends, failed himself, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. If they find out - when - he thinks he may just lose them and the thought of that makes his stomach churn, makes him feel sicker than the flu has. They’ve all been together the last four years, gravitating toward each other in Freshman year, besides Jon.   
  
He’d met Jon two years before that, after he’d finally called the police for help and his mother had been thrown in prison. He was back in the system at sixteen and spent most of his time wandering Manhattan, waiting for the day he could be on his own, completely, without feeling owned by anyone. He’d met Jon by chance, in Central Park, watching him as he photographed various things.   
  
Jon had asked him to take a picture of him standing in front of Central Park’s zoo entrance and Credence had been so nervous he’d nearly dropped the camera. But Jon had slung it over his neck after that and talked to him, for hours, about anything and everything. After that, Credence had nearly lived at his house, getting to know him and his little sister, his parents, who welcomed him with open arms the way no one else had before.   
  
Credence thinks they probably haven’t gone a single day without talking. Until recently anyway and that’s another stab to his gut, that he’s been distracted enough to let it happen, that he’s been hiding things from Jon, from everyone.   
  
He can’t tell them. Can’t tell them he did the exact opposite of what he’d agreed not to do, if he wants to keep them. But then, that’s not fair either. They deserve better than him.   
  
It’s an old thought, an ugly one, that plagued him when he was a teenager, that Jon deserved better, that they all deserved better, when they found each other at NYU. Eventually they had convinced him that they deserved him and he deserved them, but he’s throwing that back in their faces, isn’t he?   
  
Credence is angry with himself then because he doesn’t know how to stop it. Doesn’t know how to break this connection, break away from Percy, and knows he really doesn’t want to.   
  
As he tries not to think about what that says about him, Percy squeezes him against his side and presses his lips to Credence’s temple before he’s pulling away.   
  
Credence looks at him as Percy mutes the television and faces Credence more, frowning. He wants to kiss him to chase it away, because he’d take the smirk over the frown any day of the week, and he knows he’s only looking at him that way because he can feel the turmoil in Credence’s heart and mind.   
  
“Credence,” Percy says. “You’re going to have to make up your mind one of these days.”   
  
Credence sighs and looks away. “I have no idea how to do that,” he says quietly. “I feel like it’s choosing between you or them. That there’s no way I can choose both… all of you.”   
  
“So the conversation didn’t go the way you wanted it to.”   
  
“It did, actually,” Credence says. “I wanted them to tell me you’re bad news and they did.” He looks at Percy, but he’s only smiling ruefully. “And a few hours later I was here.”   
  
Percy peers at him for a while, quiet. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose your friends. But I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he says. “They care enough about you that they tried to exorcise me.”   
  
Credence chuckles, unable to help it, and scrubs his hand over his face. “That doesn’t mean they’ll put up with me lying to them repeatedly,” he says and looks at Percy. “They shouldn’t.”   
  
“I’m not… good with the friends thing,” Percy says with a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve never had many, not even before. Well,” he amends dryly, “I wasn’t really in a position to before. Most of the people that I’ve known for years care more about what someone can give them than what they can offer themselves. That’s the nature of the beast. I don’t have the answers for you.”   
  
“No  _ me or them?” _   
  
“No,” Percy says simply. “Because I know I can handle it, if you walk.” He smiles as Credence winces. “When you’ve been around for a while, you learn to adapt.”   
  
“So you’d move on from me without any issues.”   
  
“I don’t form attachments, Credence,” Percy says and there’s an edge to his tone. “It’s been a long time since I have. You’re not one in a line of many. You’re unique and I’d like to keep you close, keep you with me. You should know by now I care about you. I don’t want to watch you suffer. That’s what hurts me.”   
  
Credence watches him and bites his lip. “I know you care about me,” he says. “And you know I care about you. I want to stay with you, whatever that means. I don’t think they could ever accept that.”   
  
Percy smiles faintly. “They might surprise you.”   
  
“I’m pretty sure they still think you’ve got me under a vampire spell.”   
  
“Well, if it’s any consolation, that only happens if I turn you and I want you to be.”   
  
Credence shoots him a dirty look. “They’re not going to believe anything you say or anything I say that you’ve told me.”   
  
“Give it time. Tell them the truth when it seems right. Hope for the best.”   
  
“You’re not making me feel any better.”   
  
“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Credence,” Percy sighs. “This is unfamiliar territory for both of us.”   
  
Credence hums. “How old are you?”   
  
“Does that matter?”   
  
“I’m just curious.”   
  
“I’m 703 years old.”   
  
Credence gapes at him. “You’re shitting me.”   
  
Percy laughs. “I’m not,” he says. “You asked.”   
  
“I didn’t expect… but… then you’re not even American!”   
  
Percy laughs harder at that. “Not originally, no,” he says with a grin. “Does  _ that _ matter?”   
  
Credence blushes and shakes his head, pulling the blanket up to his chin as he gazes at Percy in awe. “Where are you from?”   
  
“France,” Percy says and points at Credence. “Don’t ask me for the accent, I can’t even remember it.”   
  
Credence grins. “Are you sure? I think it might be a bit of a turn on,” he says and snickers as Percy shakes his head. “When were you… you know?”   
  
“I was thirty-seven,” Percy says. “Haven’t aged a day since.” He smiles wryly. “Involved with the wrong people. Thieves and murderers and people darker than that.”   
  
“So you didn’t choose it?”   
  
“Oh, I did,” Percy says. “The magnitude of that choice wasn’t completely clear until after. I don’t regret it,” he adds when Credence frowns. “I learned to enjoy it and I have for a long time now.”   
  
“It doesn’t get lonely?” Credence asks, but he thinks he knows the answer.   
  
“I’m not the type of man to get lonely. I work well on my own,” Percy says and reaches up, brushing his thumb over Credence’s chin. “But I’m not opposed to falling in love with the right person.”   
  
Credence’s heart skips a beat or two at that and he stares at Percy before he leans in and kisses him. It’s sweeter than before, gentle, and Credence pulls away with a soft, shuddering sigh.   
  
“I still don’t know what to do,” he says quietly, voice smaller than he’d like.   
  
Percy smiles. “Sleep on it,” he says. “You’ll figure it out.”   
  
Credence nods and watches Percy turn the TV off. They get up and wander back upstairs and when Credence climbs into Percy’s bed, he thinks he’d be happy if he never saw his apartment again. Once Percy has settled in, he curls up against him and breathes in the smell of his soap, something that’s becoming familiar and comforting. His skin will always be cool, but it’s not bothersome, merely something to get used to.   
  
“Good night,” he whispers.   
  
“Good night, sweetheart.”   
  
——   
  
After Graves has dropped Credence off in the morning back at campus, he drives home and spends the day washing his sheets and trying not to be driven mad by the scent of Credence all over his house.   
  
He’d be perfectly alright if he moved in with him today, but he knows it won’t happen for a while, and just tries to keep his head on straight as he goes about his day. Credence texts him occasionally, dry commentary on his day or worrying incessantly about his friends, who are apparently treating him normally and making him feel even more guilty.   
  
Graves really doesn’t know how to help him. The selfish, possessive part of him wants to tell Credence to forget friends, to forget a mortal life, to join him, become his mate, but he’s not young anymore. He’s able to keep that part of him tamped down, focusing more on his genuine care for Credence’s well being.   
  
He’d rather see him happy than watch him go through life with only himself to turn to someday.   
  
Credence mentions a nap and homework at some point in the late afternoon and Graves eagerly awaits the night so he can go out and find someone to sink his fangs into. His hunger is growing by the day and one day he will ask Credence to be his volunteer, but that might not come for a long time.   
  
At six, someone rings his doorbell.   
  
When he opens the door, he sighs.   
  
These kids are going to kill him.   
  
“Hello, Mister Graves,” Lucy says with a smile.   
  
“Lucy,” Graves says. “What can I do for you?”   
  
“Can I come in?”   
  
Graves rubs his fingers against his eyes for a while. “Sure, Lucy,” he says and steps aside. He peers outside, but he can’t smell anyone else, and closes the door.   
  
Lucy wanders down the hall toward the living room. “Oh my God, it’s so dark in here,” she complains. “How can you stand it?”   
  
“Can’t really stand it the other way,” Graves says dryly as he flips on the kitchen lights and peers at her as she gazes around curiously. There’s fear in her, but it’s not strong, merely the idea that she should be careful that keeps her on edge.   
  
She looks at him, pursing her lips in a tight frown, and he leans against the kitchen island and peers back.   
  
“Credence is an idiot.”   
  
“That’s not nice.”   
  
Lucy shrugs. “I went by his apartment yesterday,” she says. “I knew he wouldn’t be there, but I still hoped. Everyone else believed him when he said we were right and that you weren’t good for him. I didn’t, not for a second. So I went there and when he didn’t answer, I used the app on my phone to find him. We share our locations with each other,” she adds sourly when he raises an eyebrow. “It’s easier to meet up that way, if we’re out photographing the city for our project. Totally unsurprised when I saw him definitely not at  _ my _ house.”   
  
Graves watches her with amusement. “How is it that you’re the only one who didn’t believe him?”   
  
“Because I’ve been in his position,” Lucy says. “Maybe not with a vampire, but a total babe anyway. Last semester of our Freshman year. She was a Junior. Everyone told me to stay away, that she was no good, that she was just going to hurt me. I told them they were right and I’d stay away. Did I? Of course not.” She sighs and shrugs. “Took me a year to recover from her.”   
  
“Your friends stuck with you.”   
  
“Including Credence and he was probably the most adamant about me staying away from her. Even when he was really messed up himself back then,” Lucy says with a frown. “He practically has a built in toxic-person alarm. We normally trust that but finding out you were a vampire was kind of exciting. If we’d listened to him from the beginning, he never would have met you.”   
  
“Life works in mysterious ways, Lucy,” Graves says and opens his fridge. He pulls out two beers and slides one across the island to her after popping the tab off. He does the same to his and takes a drink. “Are you heading toward a point?”   
  
Lucy shrugs as she climbs onto the stool on the other side of the island and sits. She takes a drink from the beer. “I don’t think he feels you’re a bad person,” she says. “I never got that feeling either, you know, but you ended up being a vampire anyway.”   
  
Graves merely smiles and raises his eyebrows.   
  
“So,” Lucy says firmly. “I don’t think you’re a good person or a bad person. I think you’re neutral. I also think Credence deserves  _ better _ than that. But it’s his choice in the end, isn’t it? Just like it was mine. I don’t want to watch him take a year to recover from you though. Or maybe even never recover from you.”   
  
“Are you asking me to stay away from him?”   
  
“I’m asking what you want with him.”   
  
Graves knows Credence is special, unique, that he wants him. But he thinks he’s lucky too, that he does, because this almost isn’t worth putting up with.   
  
He takes a drink of his beer. “I want what you wanted. What almost everyone wants at some point in their lives.”   
  
“So you’re in love with him?” Lucy asks skeptically.   
  
“Is it so surprising?”   
  
“You  _ are _ the undead.”   
  
Graves laughs then. “Just because my heart doesn’t race when I see him doesn’t mean I don’t feel.”   
  
Lucy frowns for a while, sipping her beer. “Jon’s going to despise it. So will Mina,” she says. “I don’t know if they’ll ever come around.” She bites her lip. “But they’ll stick by him, the way they did with me, because they’re going to want to protect him. We all are.”   
  
“How admirable,” Graves says with a smirk. “Do you plan on telling Credence this?”   
  
“Yes,” she says. “Because I think Credence is probably talking himself in circles and will freeze up for a long time before he admits it.”   
  
Graves smiles more genuinely. “You do know him well,” he says. “He’s doing that as we speak.”   
  
Lucy looks faintly amused. “He’s special, you know. There aren’t many out there like him.”   
  
Oh, Graves does know that. It’s precisely why she’s sitting in his home. Because he saw something special in Credence and took interest. Because he’s always going to be interested in Credence, if he chooses to stay, because he’s always going to desire him, care about him, love him.   
  
Because Credence Barebone is special. He’s sweet, gentle and kind, in the way most people aren’t, despite all that he’s gone through. He faced a cruel world and came out on the other side with a smile and there  _ is _ something special in that.   
  
“I know,” Graves says, because he won’t say this to Lucy. “My interest in him is not ill-natured. I want to see him happy and I want to see him thrive the same way you do.”   
  
Lucy nods, like she believes him. “Then you’ll let him thrive even if he decides to do it without you?”   
  
Graves smiles and tries to do so without humor. “I will,” he says. “I’m a big boy, Lucy. If Credence chooses to move on, I’ll survive.”   
  
“Have you ever been in a normal relationship before?”   
  
“Have you?”   
  
“A couple times.”   
  
Graves shrugs as he takes a drink. “A couple times,” he says and smiles as she sighs. “Go see Credence. Let him know you don’t hate him the way he’s worrying you will. He needs that from you, not me.”   
  
Lucy hums as she sips her beer. “Okay,” she says and smiles. “Thanks, Mister Graves.” She stands up and Graves walks with her down the hall, opening the front door. She flashes him a grin and wink. “Hurt him and we’ll drive a stake through your heart.”   
  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Graves says and smiles as he watches her cross his yard and into her own. He closes the door and walks back into the kitchen, grabbing the beer and looking down at it, wishing, not for the first or last time, that it actually affected him.   
  
He pulls his phone out and looks at the picture he’d convinced Credence to send to him. A simple one, his eyes squinting in the sunlight as one of his friends snapped a picture of his half-smile.   
  
_ You have no idea how lucky you are,  _ Graves thinks, and he means it to be for Credence, but, just maybe, it’s meant for himself too.   
  
——   
  
When Credence wakes up on Saturday morning, he picks up his phone and sends a text to Percy.   
  
_ I’m sorry my friends keep showing up. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I’m starting to think I only have the energy for one twenty-two year old. _   
  
Credence smiles a little, though he still feels vaguely ill at ease. It hadn’t been a conversation he was expecting when Lucy showed up on his doorstep and he might have been so ashamed he cried, but Lucy had merely hugged him and made him promise he’d tell everyone else soon.   
  
He’s not sure how in the world he’s going to do that, but he can’t lie. Not only is he bad at it, but it haunts him at every waking moment when he’s doing it. He’s lucky even one of his friends is willing to forgive him.   
  
_ Are you working tonight? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I’m supposed to work every night but Mondays. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ How DO you get away with not actually working half the week? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Owner shares the same sort of predilection as me. _   
  
Credence grimaces as he stares at his phone.   
  
_ I guess the cemetery isn’t just an on the nose thing then. _   
  
_ You probably don’t want to know. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ You’re right, I don’t. I’ll be meeting my friends later for coffee but do you want to do something tonight? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I need to go out tonight. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Does that mean what I think it means? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Yes. I have to keep myself alive somehow. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ How much do you need? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I’ve been getting enough to get through a couple nights at a time, which isn’t much. _   
  
Credence bites his lip and wonders if discussing drinking blood is just going to be a part of his life from now on. It’s bizarre but weirdly fascinating too.   
  
_ Who do you get it from? Random people on the street? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I have standards, Credence. But sometimes, yes, if I like them enough. Lately I’ve been going to a donor. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ What the hell is a donor? Someone who just lets you do it? _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Good money in it. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Omg. You pay someone to let you drink their blood? _   
  
_ Some people like the way it feels. They normally start it because someone they know has been turned and they want to help without getting turned themselves. _ _   
_ _   
_ _...I’m trying to decide if that’s some weird way of cheating or not. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Just an exchange of goods, sweetheart. _   
  
Credence grimaces again and decides to get up and ready for the day, definitely not thinking about his boyfriend going around sucking on other peoples’ necks.   
  
Tries not to think of Percy as being his boyfriend at all.   
  
He spends some time on his computer and editing photos before he heads out to Midtown. The coffee shop is bustling with even more people now that it’s getting colder out, but when he walks in, he sees that his friends are at their usual table and joins them.   
  
It’s as easy as it always is, talking about classes or the project, and they share files between their laptops. Jon’s work is always superior, but he takes their teasing in stride, with promises to hire them if they can’t get a job once they graduate.   
  
“Movie or dinner?” Mina asks after a while.   
  
“Umm,” Credence says. “I wanted to talk to you guys about something.”   
  
He supposes it’s fair when they all begin to look wary. Except Lucy, who is texting, and only glances at him and smiles before turning back to her phone.   
  
“I thought about what you all had to say,” Credence says. “And I know you’re right, regarding most of it.”   
  
“But you’re gonna do it anyway?” Mina asks flatly.   
  
Credence winces. “Well…”   
  
Jon puts his face in his hands as Quint and Mina groan.   
  
“What the fuck,” Quint says with exasperation. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”   
  
“He’s not,” Lucy says as she sets her phone aside. “Mister Graves won’t hurt him.” When they give her long looks, she shrugs. “He won’t. You had to have felt that when you talked to him.”   
  
Jon narrows his eyes. “Did  _ you _ talk to him, Lucy?”   
  
“I might have,” Lucy says archly.   
  
“Oh my God,” Mina mutters. “You’re all idiots.”   
  
“At least we didn’t go alone,” Quint mutters. “I don’t believe anything he says, Lucy, you shouldn’t either.”   
  
“But you did feel it.”   
  
“It’s probably a Jedi mind trick thing.”   
  
Credence looks between his friends helplessly and shakes his head. “He’s not making you feel anything on purpose,” he says. “I’m sorry, okay? I like him. A lot. You guys are meeting him by confronting him at his house and job without bothering to even tell me you’re doing it.”   
  
“Are you suggesting we have dinner with the vampire?” Mina asks, her voice low and mocking.   
  
“His name is Percy.”   
  
“Percy now,” Quint groans. “Credence, man, I know what it’s like to be head over heels for someone, but  _ use _ your head.”   
  
“I  _ am,” _ Credence says through his teeth. “He’s not what you think he is. And if you stop cornering him, you might actually see that.”   
  
“Asking us to spend time with him is a little much, bud,” Jon says warningly.   
  
Credence sighs. “I’m not asking you to spend time with him. Not a lot anyway,” he says. “Just see him for who he is when you’re not threatening to kill him.”   
  
“I’ve known Mister Graves for five years,” Lucy says. “I knew he was a vampire, but I never felt weird around him. I still don’t, not even when he was a jerk that one night. I think we should give him a chance.”   
  
“You know what vampires have to do to survive, right, Luce?” Quint asks tiredly.   
  
“He’s not killing people,” Credence mutters. When they look at him skeptically, he shrugs. “There are apparently donors who give blood willingly because they get paid for it.”   
  
They stare at him. “Are you telling me there’s a blood center for vampires?” Mina asks slowly.   
  
Credence shrugs helplessly. “That’s how he gets blood,” he says. “I know it’s weird, but it’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?”   
  
“Sure,” Jon says. “Except now I get to wonder if anyone I know donates blood to vampires.”   
  
“Maybe,” Credence says. “There are more of them out there than you might think.”   
  
“Have you met others?” Quint asks and looks pale at the thought.   
  
Credence tries not to remember the other vampires he’s seen. “Not really,” he says. “They were just pointed out to me.”   
  
“They walk among us, huh?” Mina asks and shakes her head. “This is bananas. But you’re a big boy, Credence, if this is what you want, whatever. Just don’t expect us to hold back from saying I told you so one day.”   
  
“Be nice,” Lucy says with a frown but Mina merely shrugs. She looks at Credence. “You can’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work out, though, Credence, it’s a super strange relationship and you don’t know how it might progress.”   
  
Credence sighs. “Yes, I know, thank you,” he mutters. “But I’m just… I’d like to enjoy it for a while, you know. I’m happy when I’m with him. He’s happy too.”   
  
Jon shakes his head before he throws his hands up. “Fine,” he says. “If this is what you want. Promise us something, though, Credence. If it gets dangerous,  _ at all, _ you will walk away. Okay?”   
  
“Okay,” Credence says, because that’s easy enough to promise. He doesn’t think any danger will come to him after all. “But he likes fine dining and watching trashy Netflix for hours, so I think I’ll be okay.”   
  
“Weird,” Quint says. “Hey, we don’t have to ask Jon to intimidate anyone for us anymore.”   
  
Mina snorts. “Yeah, just call Credence’s boyfriend in, he’ll take care of us.”   
  
“Does he have a bat signal or something?”   
  
Credence shakes his head and looks at Jon, who rolls his eyes.   
  
“The last thing I’m going to let happen is for any of us to be in  _ Percy’s _ debt.”   
  
——   
  
They do go to the movies after that, one of those dine-in theaters with food and alcohol, and Credence doesn’t get back home until nearly nine.   
  
He calls Percy when he walks into his apartment, kicking off his shoes.   
  
“Hey, sweetheart,” Percy answers and sounds faintly surprised.   
  
Credence smiles, because it feels good to surprise someone that is not likely surprised by much of anything. “Are you out already?”   
  
“No,” Percy says. “I’ll leave around midnight. Why?”   
  
“Could I go with you?”   
  
Percy is quiet for such a long time that Credence is prepared to apologize. But he says, carefully, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“A variety of reasons,” Percy says. He sighs when Credence doesn’t say anything. “Not only will there be other vampires there that  _ will _ stare at you and make you uncomfortable, but I don’t think you’re ready for the kind of sight it is. I also have a feeling you won’t like seeing me sink my teeth into someone else.”   
  
Credence wrinkles his nose. “No, I suppose I wouldn’t,” he says. “I’m not asking because I want to monitor you though.”   
  
“I know,” Percy says, amused now. “You’re curious. It’s still not a good idea.”   
  
“Why can’t you…” Credence trails off, his heart racing a little faster. “You know?”   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
Credence rolls his eyes. “You know what I’m asking.”   
  
“I’d love to hear you say it.”   
  
“Asshole,” Credence mutters. “Why can’t you drink my blood?”   
  
“Because I don’t think you’re ready for  _ that _ either.”   
  
“You said you were going to do it when we fucked.”   
  
Percy sighs. “I didn’t mean every time,” he says but there’s something grudging in it, like he thinks he shouldn’t have said it at all. “This is new for you, Credence.”   
  
Credence hums. “Yeah, it is,” he agrees. “But I’m pretty sure I can decide for myself what I can handle or not.”   
  
“Or you can take the advice of someone who has been doing this a lot longer than you.”   
  
_ “Why _ do you think I’m not ready?” Credence asks. He has a feeling he really should listen to Percy, but he’s also a little tipsy.   
  
Percy is quiet again. Then he sighs, gently, and says, “Because we have a connection. I don’t with my donor. She may like the feel of it, it’s relaxing, but you’re going to like it a lot more. So am I. It’s going to make the connection stronger.”   
  
“And that’s bad?”   
  
“When you can’t decide whether you plan on staying or going? Yes, that’s bad.”   
  
Credence frowns. “I’m staying,” he says. When Percy doesn’t say anything, he sighs. “I’m  _ staying. _ I want to. I told my friends I’m going to. But if you think we should wait anyway, I can do that too.”   
  
“Tell you what,” Percy says and there’s a smirk in his voice. “You get through your last year and we’ll talk about this again.”   
  
“That long?” Credence complains. “You want me to accept you going off and sucking on some lady’s neck every couple of nights for months?”   
  
“You  _ are _ jealous,” Percy says with a chuckle. “I suck on her arm.” He laughs outright at the frustrated groan Credence lets out. “If it’s any consolation, she spends the majority of our time teasing me about you.”   
  
“You talk to her about me?”   
  
“I didn’t have to at first,” Percy says. “She knew someone had come into my life. Hot and bothered, that’s what she called me. But yes, I talk to her about you. She’s married, you know.”   
  
Credence bites his lip as he frowns. “Does her spouse know she’s a, umm… donor?”   
  
“He is too,” Percy says. “Sits right next to her. Leaves the teasing to her though.”   
  
“Oh,” Credence says as he deflates and walks to his bed, collapsing onto it.   
  
“Mhmm,” Percy hums. “So cool your jets. If you want to go there someday, sure, I’ll take you. Just give it time, sweetheart. Patience, remember?”   
  
“It’s easy for you to say, you’re nearly seven hundred years my senior.”   
  
Percy chuckles. “Don’t worry, I used to get a little hot-blooded when I was drinking too,” he says. “Probably still would if it affected me anymore.”   
  
“Sorry,” Credence says. “I’m not normally jealous, not even when I drink. I’m usually too busy wondering why anyone would even be interested in me.”   
  
“Good to know I have you convinced,” Percy says with warm humor. “Go to bed. Come see me tomorrow.”   
  
“Fine,” Credence sighs. “Good night, Percy.”   
  
“Good night, sweetheart.”   
  
——   
  
It starts snowing halfway through November. The first snow is always nice and enjoyable to watch, but after a few days of it, Credence remembers why he’s not so fond of it in the city.   
  
Not only does it turn grey with dirt and slushy from traffic, but the sidewalks on campus get icy and he has to be more careful when walking with his camera.   
  
But it doesn’t quite compare to Percy’s sourness. He seems to hate the snow with a passion and Lucy nods, reminding him that she had said so at the beginning of all of this, that he never comes out during the winter in daylight.   
  
Credence is fairly sure he’s hibernating when he’s not over at his house or Percy isn’t out feeding or terrorizing people, whatever it is he likes to do with his time.   
  
He’s getting busier himself, preparing for exams that are only a month away, and they are still chipping away at their project. They have to submit some of it right before exams start, for review and critiquing, and Credence spends most of his nights editing pictures and putting his part of the story together, even when he’s with Percy.   
  
Percy does seem to enjoy the project and the way they’ve  _ captured the supernatural, _ though Credence has to explain a few photos for him to really get it.   
  
They’re only getting closer, Credence thinks, but Percy hasn’t bitten him again, not yet, and he seems to be shying away from doing anything more than they already have, and Credence can’t help but wonder if he scared him in some way. If he was too pushy. It makes him feel badly but he’s at a loss when it comes to bringing it up.   
  
“What’re you doing for Thanksgiving?” Credence asks, a week before then.   
  
“Normally I’d go to a party upstate,” Percy answers as he browses through Netflix, no doubt searching for more garbage to watch. “But I’m skipping it this year.”   
  
“Why?” Credence asks with a frown. “Is it a vampire party?”   
  
“It is, actually,” Percy says and smirks as he looks at Credence. “They’re not nearly as entertaining as they used to be.”   
  
Credence grimaces. “What happens at a vampire party?”   
  
“A lot of debauchery,” Percy says. “Though not so much sacrifice anymore. Mostly it’s about finding willing virgin blood and getting your rock’s off.”   
  
“Ew,” Credence mutters as he turns back to his laptop. “Is that what you do? Go there and drink willing virgin blood while you fuck them?”   
  
Percy squeezes his thigh. “Used to,” he says. “Mostly I go because there are people there I haven’t seen in a year.”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “So you  _ do _ have friends?”   
  
“Associates,” Percy says with a smile. “It’s a good place to talk business.”   
  
“What keeps your coffers full.”   
  
“Mhmm.”   
  
“Won’t they miss you?”   
  
“They know where to find me,” Percy says. “I assume you’ll be with one or more of your friends on Thanksgiving.”   
  
Credence nods. “I go to Jon’s house. Him and his sister and parents are as good as my family. They’re not too far away, an hour north of here. I’ll probably spend the night and day with them and we’ll come back down on Sunday for class the next morning.”   
  
Percy smiles. “You’ll have a good time,” he says and rubs Credence’s thigh when he frowns. “It’s far too early to invite me.”   
  
“I know,” Credence mutters. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to. But Jon might disown me at that point. Won’t you get bored?”   
  
“I think I can survive not seeing you for a few days,” Percy says, amused. “I’ll probably make some food of my own and eat and sleep the time away.”   
  
Credence hums. “We normally go see whatever movie comes out on Wednesday night,” he says slowly. “You could come with us.”   
  
“Are you trying to piss off your friends?”   
  
“They’ve already said they’d be willing to have you there.”   
  
Percy groans. “Spending time with your friends is not…” he trails off as Credence glares at him. “I understand you want us to come to some sort of understanding, but we are worlds apart.”   
  
“So are we.”   
  
Percy rubs his hand over his face and looks at Credence again.   
  
Credence looks back, raising his eyebrows.   
  
“Fuck,” Percy says. “As long as it’s just a movie.”   
  
“Just a movie. Promise,” Credence says and smiles as Percy sighs. He leans in and kisses him before he turns back to his laptop. “You barely have to talk to them.”   
  
——   
  
Of course, Credence had neglected to mention to Graves that the day before Thanksgiving at a movie theater is an utter nightmare.   
  
Not only is it filled with every college student that lives in the city, but their families, and numerous twenty and thirty-something couples. Thankfully there are not many children, or Graves thinks his head might explode.   
  
He has to push down his senses as much as he can as they wait in line to be let in, surrounded by a couple hundred people, the smell of them and the frankly nauseating bonus of buttered popcorn nearly too overwhelming.   
  
“You’re wearing sunglasses inside at night, dude.”   
  
Graves looks around and squints at the girl. Her hair is dark, cut short and wavy on top and buzzed around the bottom. She’s been eyeing him suspiciously for the last twenty minutes.   
  
“Does it bother you, Wilhelmina?”   
  
“It’s weird, Percival.”   
  
“Stop it,” Credence says as he shakes his head. “It’s not that bright in here though.”   
  
“It helps with everything else,” Graves says through gritted teeth.   
  
“You’re not gonna go primeval on us, right?” Quint asks, but it’s said with good humor more than anything else.   
  
Graves smiles shortly. “Going primeval is not something I can warn you about ahead of time,” he says and hisses when Credence elbows him. “You didn’t tell me it was going to be like this.”   
  
“I assumed you’d been to the movies on a holiday before,” Credence says and bites his lip, hiding a smile. “It’ll be better when we get inside.”   
  
Jon approaches them with two drink carriers and looks at Graves as suspiciously as Mina has been. “Still wearing the glasses, Chief?”   
  
“I am, Junior,” Graves says and catches Credence’s elbow. “You won’t like me if I take them off.”   
  
“We don’t like you now,” Mina says and shrugs when Lucy shoots her a look.   
  
“I’m sorry, Mister Graves, I thought my friends had more manners,” Lucy says. “If taking them off makes it hurt more, then we don’t mind you leaving them on.”   
  
“It hurts?” Quint asks skeptically.   
  
Credence sighs. “It’s not that hard to imagine why,” he says and looks a little crestfallen, which certainly won’t do. “He can sense everything more than we can.”   
  
Graves squeezes the back of Credence’s neck and smiles at him, with only a bit of a grimace. “It’s fine,” he says. “It’ll be better inside, like you said.”   
  
“Okay, I have a question,” Mina says and Graves empathizes with the few groans she gets in reply. “If I asked you how many people were wearing  _ Bleu de Chanel  _ tonight, would you be able to tell me?”   
  
“Oh my God,” Credence mutters.   
  
“Depends,” Graves says. “Do you have any on you?”   
  
Mina holds out her wrist and he leans in, sniffing it. She doesn’t smell like fear, which helps him concentrate on the cologne.   
  
“Seventeen,” he says after he’s focused and he frowns as they gape at him. “It’s not difficult to pinpoint. Do you prefer men’s cologne?”   
  
“It’s spicy,” Mina says. “I don’t like the flowery stuff.”   
  
“Oh, Mina, the rose petal shampoo says otherwise.”   
  
“Okay, okay,” Mina says with a laugh. “Turn it off.”   
  
Credence shakes his head. “Please don’t ask him to do it again,” he says. “Because it gets way more specific than that.”   
  
“Do tell,” Quint says with interest.   
  
“My lips are sealed,” Graves says and smiles wanly as the theater is opened and they begin to walk inside.   
  
It is loud for a while, but not being as close to so many beating hearts and the variety of blood that pumps through them is lessened when they get to their seats. Graves is more than happy to sit at the end of the aisle, which he has already shown Credence his appreciation for, and lets out a sigh of relief.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Credence says as he looks at Graves. “For them.”   
  
“It’s not anything I wasn’t expecting,” Graves says with a smile. “But if I say yes to this more than once a year, please do realize I only do it for you.”   
  
Credence smiles and shakes his head. “I know you do,” he says. “Thank you, by the way, for doing it at all. I’ll make sure when we go out places it isn’t busy like this. I didn’t think about it being overwhelming but I should have.”   
  
“It wasn’t always. Once upon a time I was used to large crowds,” Graves says. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”   
  
“So when we go to baseball games over the summer you won’t be joining us.”   
  
“If you’re ever feeling some kind of way about baseball, you can wear that Halloween costume of yours and I will gladly root for the Yankees.”   
  
Credence laughs as he shakes his head, his cheeks delightfully red. “I will… keep that in mind,” he says with a grin.   
  
Graves chuckles and kisses his temple before he turns to the screen as the lights dim and the previews start. He takes his sunglasses off then, blinking a little in the brighter light, but it’s not overwhelming anymore.   
  
He can’t really remember the last time he went to the movies but there is something nice about holding Credence’s hand here, out in public, even if some of that public are kids that have repeatedly threatened to murder him.   
  
Part of the charm, he suspects.   
  
The movie is fine, the sort of action-drama movie that seems appropriate for American holidays. Credence and his friends seem to have enjoyed it immensely and are commenting about the way it was shot after it’s over, something that is beyond him, and he walks out of the theater holding Credence’s hand, his sunglasses back on his nose.   
  
It’s cold outside, snowing again, and Graves grimaces as they walk away from the main thoroughfare from the theater to… stand around and chat, he supposes. Jon and Credence are talking about their Thanksgiving plans and the others follow and Graves tucks his sunglasses away and tries to remember if he ever had this sort of ease with people.   
  
The occasional romance, maybe, but he’s never really been able to call any others like him  _ friends.  _ It’s the selfishness that runs through them, always desiring more than others, that keeps them at an arm's length from each other. There were some he spent many years with because it was safer that way, until the world started changing, and he was able to survive on his own.   
  
He can’t even remember being Credence’s age and when he was, it was a vastly different world. It was the Middle Ages after all.   
  
If he concentrates enough, he thinks he can remember what a pigsty smells like and beef and potato stew, after a long day in the mud and rain.   
  
“Are you alright?”   
  
“Hmm?” Graves hums as he looks at Credence. He smiles. “Fine. Really,” he adds, when Credence frowns. “Perfectly fine.”   
  
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Mister Graves?” Lucy asks.   
  
“Eating, drinking and sleeping. In various different orders,” Graves says with a smile.   
  
“Do you need to do any of those?” Jon asks.   
  
“No,” Graves says. “Just like you don’t need to pump iron for two hours every day. We do it because we enjoy it.”   
  
Jon huffs a small laugh. “Fair enough, I suppose,” he says and smiles wryly at Credence. “I’ll pick you up at noon, alright? Where will you be?”   
  
“Oh, uh,” Credence says, his cheeks faintly pink. “At Percy’s.”   
  
“Just own it, man,” Quint says with a smile. “See you all later.”   
  
There are various wishes for a happy Thanksgiving as Quint, Mina and Jon leave. Lucy watches them go and smiles as she looks at Credence and Graves.   
  
“I can bring you a plate tomorrow, if you want,” she says.   
  
“Kind of you, Lucy,” Graves says. “But I’ll be cooking for myself.”   
  
“If you change your mind, let me know,” Lucy says with another cheerful smile. “See you boys back home.”   
  
“We’ll be right behind you,” Credence says and watches her as she crosses the street to her car.   
  
Once they’re sure she’s driven off safely, they get in Graves’ truck and he drives back toward the neighborhood, hand on Credence’s leg. When he glances at him and sees Credence staring forward, gnawing on his lip, he smiles.   
  
“It was fine, Credence.”   
  
“I know. And I know I need to give it time, don’t say it,” Credence says with a smile. “I only hope it gets better.”   
  
Graves shrugs. “It will,” he says. “We’ll be thick as thieves one day.”   
  
Credence rolls his eyes and looks out of the window. “I’m only aiming for less open hostility.”   
  
“One day.”   
  
They pull into Graves’ driveway not much later and wave goodnight to Lucy as she goes inside. Once they’re inside and have shed their coats, they head upstairs and into the bedroom. Graves is expecting to sleep, as it’s going on half past eleven, but Credence has other things in mind.   
  
Graves is pushed onto the bed and Credence is straddling his waist before he knows it and he laughs into the kiss as Credence presses his lips to his.   
  
His laughter fades into a groan when Credence grinds himself against Graves’ crotch and he tastes the sweetness of the coke Credence had earlier on his tongue.   
  
Credence pulls back and reaches into his pocket, handing Graves a bottle of lube and a condom.   
  
Graves raises his eyebrows and smiles in amusement. “You realize I can’t pass anything to you and you can’t pass anything to me, don’t you?”   
  
Credence frowns in thought before he laughs. “Right. I suppose I’m not used to that. Not that I have anything,” he says and plucks the condom out of Graves’ hand, tossing it onto the ground. “Even better. You can come inside me then.”   
  
“You’re going to be the death of me one of these days,” Graves sighs. “You sure you don’t want to do it the other way first?”   
  
“Other way?” Credence asks, then blinks. “Oh. Well, I definitely want to someday, but not tonight. Tonight I want you in me and I want you to make me come by biting me.”   
  
Graves tips his head back against the bed and lets out a soft breath when he looks at Credence. “Well, if that’s what you want,” he says and smiles. “Get undressed.”  
  
“You want it too, right?” Credence asks as he stands and pulls his shirt off.  
  
There’s worry in his voice and Graves thinks he knows why. “Of course I do,” he says. “I just don’t want you to get used to it.” When Credence’s eyebrows shoot up, he sighs. “The biting part.”  
  
Credence frowns. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”  
  
“I think I already have and I’ve only bitten you once.”  
  
“Well, forgive me, but I’ve never had an orgasm like that before. Oh, stop smirking,” Credence says as he hops out of his jeans and throws them at Graves.

Graves chuckles as he catches them and drops them on the floor. “I’ll make you feel good tonight, but don’t ask me to bite you every time.”

“Okay,” Credence says with a shrug. “Fair.”

Graves eyes him as he pulls his own shirt off. He doesn’t think it’s going to be that easy, but Credence pulls his boxers off and he decides he’ll worry about that another night.   
  
——   
  
Of course, Graves doesn’t see Credence as often for the next month, so it’s easy enough, for now.   
  
Credence is busy with school, finishing up the semester and studying for exams, working on his thesis and project. When he’s with Graves, he’s on his computer and editing photos or Skyping with his friends as they discuss their work. It’s such a foreign thing to him, but he enjoys watching Credence move through his life, and wonders what he’ll look like a year from now.   
  
Five years from now.   
  
Graves doesn’t see him at all the week leading up to his exams, which finish on the 21st. He does well, of course, he’s too smart and focused to not, but his exhaustion is apparent when he slumps into Graves’ arms that night.   
  
When he asks to be bitten, Graves doesn’t have it in him to deny that request.   
  
And if he thought he’d have Credence to himself for the next couple of weeks, well, he’s proven wrong fairly quickly. He thinks he underestimated just how much friends  _ actually _ enjoy each other’s company and what being the partner of one of them means for him - having to enjoy their company too.   
  
Graves doesn’t quite feel like a babysitter when he’s out with them - more like the pissy older brother, as Mina had helpfully called him - but he does sometimes wonder how angry Credence would be if he picked them off one by one.   
  
But it’s Christmas Eve and he supposes that’s a day he should be nice to Credence’s friends, so he only complains a little when Credence coaxes him out to Central Park.   
  
They’re looking at Christmas lights, wandering through the otherwise dark park, and there are fewer people than Graves had expected to find. It’s not even nine, but maybe they have the good sense to be at home with their families on Christmas Eve and not wandering around the cold and damp and being blinded by twinkling lights.   
  
Credence will spend the next day with Jon and his family and Graves is eager to spend it hiding under the covers from what’s supposed to be a bright sunny day.   
  
“So crosses don’t work,” Quint is saying conversationally. “What about holy water?”   
  
“Crosses do work,” Graves says. “Just not the kind you get off of Grandma’s living room wall.”   
  
“What kind work then?” Jon asks, far too curious, when he usually isn’t.   
  
Graves smiles wryly. “Now why would I go telling you that,” he says. “Holy water works to an extent. The most you’re going to do is piss someone off with it.”   
  
“Does it really burn?” Credence asks as he looks at Graves and squeezes his hand.   
  
“Yes,” Graves says. “And once it’s done burning you’ll realize why you shouldn’t have been carrying holy water in the first place.”   
  
“Stake through the heart?” Mina asks as she and Lucy exchange a small bottle of whiskey. Graves approves.   
  
Graves shrugs. “Yes and no,” he says. “Do it wrong and you’re just going to piss someone off even more.”   
  
“How do you do it  _ wrong?” _ Quint asks skeptically.   
  
“I don’t think I’ll tell you that either.”   
  
“Credence, your boyfriend is making it impossible to kill him.”   
  
Credence snorts and shakes his head. “You can only do that if I give you permission first,” he says and smiles as Graves glances sidelong at him.   
  
“Something to look forward to,” Graves says as he looks at a small Christmas tree they pass. “Anniversary date? Stake through the heart? Splash of holy water on the side?”   
  
They snicker and he shakes his head as he gazes around.   
  
The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and Graves frowns as he looks up the path, but he doesn’t see anyone. It’s the sudden smell that makes him stop.   
  
“Shut up,” Graves says quietly as Credence stops at his side, but his friends only laugh.  _ “Shut up.” _   
  
“Hey, don’t tell us to—”   
  
“No, be quiet,” Credence says as he looks at Graves. “What is it?”   
  
Graves lets go of his hand and steps away, turning in a circle as he gazes around, the air thickening with a familiar, sour scent and he hums, raising his eyebrows.   
  
“This is going to be bad,” he mutters. He glances at Credence and gestures. “Get them out of here.”   
  
“What the fuck is going on?” Jon demands.   
  
Graves hears her before he sees her and turns around as a woman, small and graceful, appears fifty or so feet down along the path from them. She’s petite, with pale skin and long, black hair, wearing a bright red peacoat.   
  
“Hello, Mister Graves!” she calls, waving her hand.   
  
Credence and his friends turn to her and Graves can smell their fear then, strong, and it would be intoxicating, if he wasn’t being bombarded with the scent of others just like him. He feels the need to protect them, something that’s completely foreign to him, outside of Credence, and he eyes the young woman.   
  
“I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted,” he calls back.   
  
“No,” she says as she continues walking toward them at a languid pace. “I’ve just heard so much about you.”   
  
“Is she a fucking vampire?” Mina asks warily as they begin to back away.   
  
Graves holds up his hand to stop them from moving. “Don’t move until I tell you to. There are more.”   
  
Lucy gasps.   
  
“It’s that pasty bastard,” Graves says, because he can smell him now, he can smell his stench on the others that are surrounding them and it pisses him off more than anything else. “I never did like Austrians.”   
  
The woman laughs as she comes closer, only stopping when Graves looks her in the eye, because she knows him, she knows what he is capable of. She’s been taught by someone who knows it personally after all.   
  
“The great Percival Graves. Surrounded by kids,” she says and looks disappointed. “I expected more.”   
  
“Oh, honey,” Graves says with a smile. “I don’t blame you for not knowing any different. You are so very,  _ very _ young.”   
  
There’s anger in her eyes now, which take on an inhuman like sheen and Graves steps in front of Credence. She hisses more than she laughs. “I may be young,” she says. “But I’m not foolish enough to get involved with mortals.”   
  
“Foolish enough to get involved with immortals.”   
  
“I’m one of you now.”   
  
“You think he’s teaching you to be strong like him?”   
  
“I know he is.”   
  
Graves chuckles. “Oh,  _ honey,” _ he tsks and smiles, all teeth. “He’s not teaching you. He’s sacrificing you.”   
  
She hisses then and exposes her fangs. Lucy yelps.   
  
“Oh my fucking God,” Quint says, voice trembling. “Can we, uh, run now?”   
  
“Yeah,” Graves says. “Go her way.”   
  
“Do what now?” Jon barks.   
  
“There are more behind us than in front. Stay together,” Graves says and looks at Credence, who is gaping back at him, pale as the moon.   
  
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” he says, very nobly, but very foolishly.   
  
“You damn well are,” Graves says and smiles. “Sweetheart, I appreciate it, but you’re not going to like what you see here.”   
  
They scream then, as the fledgling makes a sudden leap for them, her mouth widening, jaw unhinged, but Graves catches her by the throat and grasps her arm as she reaches forward, claws exposed, to tear his neck open.   
  
“Sacrifice,” Graves says and smiles as he smells her fear then.   
  
Her neck snaps easily and he throws her aside and looks around as they scream again.   
  
“Did you just kill her?” Credence cries.   
  
“No, she’ll be back up in a minute,” Graves says. “I’m not going to tell you again. Get out of—”   
  
Graves whirls around when he hears another and decides he’ll deal with the fallout later. There are five of them, but their father isn’t close, which he’s grateful for, if only for this moment.   
  
They do run, when he grabs the next fledgling and opens his mouth, tearing his throat out and clawing his chest to ribbons.   
  
It’s carnage, the way it was meant to be, the way the  _ other one  _ likes it. He likes to watch Graves stretch his muscles, so to speak, and these fledglings, so drunk with their new power, always fall for it. It ruins Graves’ day every time, and he’d normally be content with complaining about it, but this time is different.   
  
He has someone he wants to protect. He has someone he doesn’t even want to involve in any of this - and that someone has people he cares about too.   
  
So he kills these fledglings the way he always has and when he’s finished with the last one, he drops her to the ground and spits her blood out. It’s cool against his mouth, his neck, his chest, unpleasant and sour, and he hisses with displeasure.   
  
Then he runs.   
  
Graves follows the scent of their fear and he mourns the lack of speed of mortals, when he catches up with them as they run out of the 72nd Street entrance.   
  
Lucy squeals when she gets a look at him.   
  
“Holy  _ fuck!” _ Mina shouts. “You are covered in blood!”   
  
“Comes with the territory,” Graves says as he looks up and down the street. “Not in the middle of the fucking street, you bastard.”   
  
“Who?” Credence asks as he stares at Graves, paler now, and looks like he may just pass out. “Who is  _ he?” _   
  
“I’m out, I tap out, this is too much, I’m done,” Quint is rambling but Jon grabs him before he walks away, his eyes roaming around, because he can sense him too.   
  
The bastard is just that overwhelmingly rank.   
  
Graves looks up then, at a building across the street, at the lone figure standing on top of it. They follow his gaze.   
  
“Is that him?” Credence asks, his voice wavering. “Is he trying to kill you?”   
  
“No, this is his idea of a holiday get together,” Graves says and wipes blood from his mouth. “Go now. Go to your parents’ homes, out of the city, if you can. You’ll be safe.” He looks at Credence, who is staring at him like he’s gone mad. “You’ll be safe when your scent is gone from here. Go, Credence.”   
  
“Credence, now,” Jon says firmly as he takes Lucy’s hand and Mina take’s Quint’s.  _ “Credence.” _   
  
“Percy,” Credence says and there’s panic in his voice. “What if—”   
  
“No what ifs,” Graves says. “Go to Lucy’s and you’ll see me soon.”   
  
Credence lip wobbles and he looks angry, like he wants to tell Graves to go fuck himself, but he nods and turns and follows his friends. Graves watches them go before he looks up at the building again, at the man standing on the roof, hidden in shadows.   
  
Graves joins him after he’s taken his coat and outer shirt off and wiped some of the blood away. He tosses the bloody clothes on the roof as he steps onto it and looks at Gellert Grindelwald, who smiles, danger in it, like there always has been.   
  
“Not even a scratch,” he says and his voice makes Graves’ skin crawl, for what it reminds him of. “I had hoped for more from them.”   
  
“That was a bad batch,” Graves agrees. “You could have just called.”   
  
Grindelwald smiles again. “The phone bill would have been outrageous.”   
  
Graves laughs and shakes his head, looking up at the starry sky above. He looks at Grindelwald and sighs. “It’s been a long time. To what do I owe the pleasure?”   
  
“I never did like the Austrian countryside during winter,” Grindelwald says as he approaches Graves. “I had heard strange rumors.  _ Tamed _ they said.”   
  
“Comfortable,” Graves corrects. “It’s nice to take a century off here and there. You should try it some time, might do something for that face of yours.”   
  
Grindelwald smiles again as he stops in front of Graves, close enough to touch, but he won’t. Not yet.   
  
“You love him?”   
  
Graves tries not to hiss, but the spike of anger is something he can’t immediately control, and the malicious glint in Grindelwald’s eye tells him he would’ve picked it up from miles away.   
  
“Why do you suddenly have interest in a twenty-two year old college student?”   
  
“I have interest in the fact that you have interest,” Grindelwald says with amusement. “You haven’t turned him.”   
  
“Taking it slow,” Graves says. “That’s all the rage in the twenty-first century.”   
  
Grindelwald tsks. “I remember a man who used to—”   
  
“I don’t care,” Graves says boredly. “I don’t care what you remember from Europe. Times change, it’s about time you got on board with that.”   
  
His hand moves quickly and though Graves grasps his wrist, it’s still wrapped tight around his neck before he can blink and he bares his fangs as Grindelwald squeezes his windpipe.   
  
“Skene Manor,” Grindelwald says, with a hiss. “Tomorrow night. We have something to discuss.” He releases Graves’ throat.   
  
Graves steps back and shakes it off. “You are just the type to ruin Christmas with a visit to  _ Skene Manor,”  _ he spits, voice gravelly.   
  
Grindelwald merely smiles coldly and in between one second and the next he’s gone. Graves hisses again, because he’s angry now, angrier than he’s been in a long time.   
  
He walks to the edge of the roof and once he’s sure there is no one looking, he jumps, and lands on the sidewalk, striding off down the street to get back to his truck.   
  
Graves is on edge for the drive home, but he knows nothing has happened to Credence. Knows he would feel it and the thought hasn’t crossed his mind until tonight. Whether it’s a vampire or an accident, Graves would feel the connection break, in a way he hasn’t felt in a very long time, and he supposes he should prepare himself for that. Not that he’ll let any harm come to Credence by way of a vampire, but he can’t control everything, unless he turned Credence and he won’t do that. He doesn’t think Credence would do well with this life.   
  
When these are the types of friends you get during it.   
  
He parks in the driveway and gets out, looking at the front window. There’s light on inside and he supposes Credence must be in there, though he would have preferred for him to stay with Lucy. It’s not until he opens the door and smells more than Credence that he understands.   
  
“Shit,” he mutters to himself, because he’d like nothing more than a shower and not tending to traumatized college students.   
  
Graves walks to the living room and sees them all sitting around, on the sofa and loveseat, and they stare at each other for a while. They look shell-shocked, which he can’t blame them for, but Credence moves and he walks toward Graves, reaching for him.   
  
“I’m alright,” Graves says quietly, as Credence’s hands fist in his tank top. “I said I’d see you soon, didn’t I?”   
  
Credence shakes his head as he looks down at Graves’ chest, then back up. “What the hell was that?”   
  
“Yeah, no, really. What the  _ hell _ was that?!” Mina shouts from the loveseat.   
  
Graves sighs and he would kiss Credence, but he’s aware of the mess. He wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes him before he walks him back to the sofa and gets him seated again. Graves sits in the armchair and looks between them all.   
  
“It happens occasionally,” he says and shrugs when they all gape at him. “With this man anyway. Every few decades or so.” He smiles wryly. “He’s European. They’re a different breed sometimes.”   
  
“You’re European,” Credence mutters as he puts his hands over his face.   
  
“Once upon a time,” Graves says and smiles shortly as Credence peeks out of his fingers to glare. “I didn’t expect him anytime soon. But this is how he says hello.”   
  
Lucy shakes her head. “So there are a bunch of normal vampires roaming around New York City, but you occasionally get this kind of wacko?”   
  
“Unfortunately.”   
  
Mina huffs a laugh and crosses her arms. “So why did he visit you early?”   
  
Graves doesn’t think the truth would go over well with them. “He missed me,” he says and smiles as they give him varying degrees of scowls in return. “Because he’s an asshole with an ego the size of Central Europe.”   
  
“He just tries to kill you every few decades?” Quint asks in disbelief. “This is fun for him?”   
  
“It is,” Graves says. “But he’s not trying to kill me, he just likes seeing me angry.”   
  
“Did you have a thing with this guy?” Jon asks.   
  
Graves shudders. “Don’t put that in my head,” he mutters. “No, I didn’t. Some of us get to a certain age and like to test the boundaries of respect and the strength of others. That’s all he’s doing.”   
  
Credence sighs as he gazes at Graves, shaking his head. “He’s as old as you?”   
  
“A little older,” Graves says with a frown. “A little stronger. But none of you have to worry about him.” He smiles grimly when they gape at him. “He’s here for me. He’ll leave when he’s bored. I’ll let you know when that happens.”   
  
“You’re going to see him again?” Credence asks shrilly.   
  
“Of course,” Graves says. “He’ll get bored faster that way.”   
  
“Credence,” Jon says. “You remember that promise you made?”   
  
“Oh, come on,” Credence says. “Percy didn’t know this was going to happen.”   
  
“Not tonight, but he knew it would someday.”   
  
“What promise are we talking about?” Graves asks, though he thinks he has an idea.   
  
Jon shakes his head. “Credence promised to walk away from you once this got dangerous,” he says angrily. “It just did. If this is what being you is like, it puts him in danger.”   
  
Graves peers at him for a while. He knows that’s true, can’t deny it, but he doesn’t think Grindelwald’s interest runs any deeper than antagonizing him - he won’t hurt Credence for the hell of it, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely safe either way.   
  
If people are whispering about him being tamed, if his relationship has reached curious minds in Europe, it means that Credence isn’t safe. Graves doesn’t think anyone would really try to hurt him - they’d have to deal with Graves after that, the entire world would, and they won’t risk that.   
  
There are always exceptions though. One rather large exception, beyond Grindelwald.   
  
“See,” Jon says quietly. “He knows it’s true too.”   
  
“Can we not talk about this tonight?” Credence asks. “Can we get through Christmas first?”   
  
“What if something happens tomorrow?” Quint asks. “What if it happens the day after that?”   
  
“Personally, I’d be way more comfortable talking about it when Percy’s not literally covered in blood,” Mina mutters. “It’s all over, dude.”   
  
Graves nods. “I can smell it, Mina,” he says with a smile. “It’s especially rotten tonight.”   
  
“Thought you liked blood?” Jon asks menacingly.   
  
“I like fresh blood, not dead blood,” Graves says with a frown. “There’s a reason we don’t all just feed off each other and keep mortals out of it.”   
  
“Makes sense,” Lucy says. When her friends eye her, she shrugs. “It does. I’m trying  _ not _ to focus on what I saw an hour ago, thanks.”   
  
“You should all get home,” Graves says. “Quint, you live in the city, don’t you?”   
  
“Yeah,” Quint says tiredly. “Are you telling me I can’t spend Christmas with my mom?”   
  
Graves chuckles. “Just tonight. It’ll be fine by morning. Go with Credence and Jon tonight.”   
  
Credence blinks. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says indignantly. He glares as Jon scowls at him. “If you really think I’m leaving him alone tonight—”   
  
“Credence,” Graves says quietly. Credence looks at him, already wounded. “Go with him tonight. Try to enjoy Christmas with your family. All of you.”   
  
It looks like Credence might argue and Graves suspects he’s going to be livid when they do speak alone, but he’s alright with that. Thinks that Credence has something to be livid about, though he’s not focused on the right reason yet.   
  
But Credence merely stands and walks out of the living room, off down the hall and Jon follows him.   
  
“Thanks for, like, not letting those things kill us,” Quint says as he stands before he too is off down the hall.   
  
“Would’ve been cool if we weren’t living it,” Mina says with a flat smile as she takes Lucy’s hand. “Later, Percy.”   
  
“Thanks, Mister Graves,” Lucy says. “Be careful.”   
  
“Always,” Graves says and watches them go. It’s not until he hears the door close that he gets up himself and walks down the hall, peering out of the window and making sure Lucy gets to her house and the others get in Jon’s car.   
  
When they’ve driven off, Graves walks upstairs and into his bathroom, turning on the light. The sight of dried blood coating his mouth, splatters of it further up his face and down along his neck and shoulders, isn’t new. But he didn’t want Credence to see this for a reason.   
  
Graves takes a shower and wonders if he should respect the promise Credence made.    
  
Wonders if Credence himself can respect it.   
  
——   
  
Credence doesn’t sleep and he’s struck by the fact that this will be his first Christmas that he is wide awake for. The foster homes he had been in hadn’t made it special for him and by the time his mother had adopted him, she had beaten the idea of Christmas out of him early on. It was not truly a Christian holiday and so they would not celebrate it.   
  
He didn’t experience what most of his friends had, waking at the crack of dawn eagerly awaiting to see what Santa had brought them. He might have had trouble sleeping between Christmas Eve and Christmas but it was from the longing of what he was missing and eventually sleep always found him, the knowledge of what he knew was actually waiting for him pushing him into the escape of dreams.   
  
But tonight, he stays awake, lying on an air mattress on Jon’s bedroom floor that he’s sharing with Quint, listening to the soft breathing of his friends. Jon is more machine than human when it comes to sleep, always sufficient, but he had stayed awake until nearly one, talking to Credence and Quint about what they had experienced.   
  
They didn’t seem concerned about vampires sneaking in but Credence had still been uneasy.   
  
They blamed drinking on their odd arrangements and while Jon’s parents had tsked at them and Quint’s mother had sighed over the phone, they didn't ask questions beyond that.   
  
Credence doubts they’d believe the truth.   
  
So he stares at the ceiling and watches night steadily become day and wonders what Percy is doing. Wonders if he stayed home, wonders if he went out and found the other vampire, wonders if he’s alright. He thinks he would feel it, if he wasn’t, though Percy certainly feels Credence more than he feels Percy.   
  
But he thinks he would feel it keenly if he’d been hurt or killed.   
  
He checks the news but there is nothing, nothing at all mentioned about the bloodbath in Central Park, and he’s not sure he wants to know how that can be, no desire to ask Percy about it.   
  
It’s not until after everyone has woken up, exchanged gifts, and had a breakfast of baked cinnamon french toast that he decides to call him. Jon tries to talk him out of it when he sees Credence walking to the back door but he ignores him, stepping out into the cold morning, soft snow piled up throughout the yard. Credence crosses it and goes to the opposite wall, leaning against it, shivering with more than just the cold, despite being wrapped up in his heavy coat.   
  
“Hey,” Percy answers after a few rings. “You doing okay?”   
  
“No,” Credence says bluntly. “No, I’m not.”   
  
Percy sighs, gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I hoped you would sleep.”   
  
“I don’t care if you said we weren’t in danger, it’s hard to get that kind of thing out of your head,” Credence mutters. “Are you okay?”   
  
“I’m perfectly fine,” Percy says. “I’m watching Extreme Engagement.”   
  
Credence sighs and scrubs at his eyes. “You didn’t go out then.”   
  
“No,” Percy says. “I will tonight.”   
  
“Then why did I have to leave?”   
  
Percy is quiet. “Because,” he finally says, “you needed to be with your friends. And because they know where I live but they don’t know where Jon lives.”   
  
“I didn’t get the impression you thought they’d be coming to your house.”   
  
“I didn’t think they’d show up in Central Park either, Credence,” Percy says calmly. “I wasn’t going to put you through it twice. I want you to have a good day, if you can. I’m not leaving until late tonight, so you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll text you before I head out.”   
  
“That’s it?” Credence asks moodily. “Just,  _ hey, I’m going to meet that vampire that likes to try to kill me for fun, _ that kind of thing?”   
  
“With a little more finesse maybe.”   
  
“Percy.”   
  
“I know, love,” Percy says quietly, gentle in the way that makes Credence press his cheek more firmly against his phone, clamping his eyes shut. “I don’t know how to make this easier on you. You’re going to have to trust me. I’ll be home by tomorrow morning and it should be done. That’s how it normally goes.”   
  
“What if it doesn’t go normally?” Credence asks, his voice small.   
  
“It will,” Percy says firmly. “You’ll see. Go spend Christmas with your loved ones and try not to think about all of this.”   
  
“Easy for you to say,” Credence mutters. “I saw you rip someone’s throat out with your own teeth last night.” He sniffs. “And I’m missing one of my loved ones.”   
  
Percy sighs. “I’m not far from you. I won’t be,” he says. “Come see me tomorrow afternoon, if you want to.”   
  
Credence frowns. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to?”   
  
“Your friends are right, to some extent, Credence.”   
  
“I made my choice. I made it in September. I stand by it.”   
  
“You need to think beyond what you feel for me and realize what comes with being involved with me. It’s more than feeding and one day catching up to me in age. There  _ are _ dangers.”   
  
Credence bites his lip when he feels it wobble but it’s the tears that sting at his eyes that really piss him off. “It sounds like you want me to walk away from you.”   
  
“I want what’s best for you, Credence. I always have.”   
  
“Even if it means we aren’t together,” Credence says hollowly. “If this doesn’t happen often, what other dangers are there?”   
  
“Credence,” Percy says with another sigh. “I underestimated the interest my being with a mortal would stir up. Most of it is benign. But I told you there are those that like to push, to test, like the man last night. I won’t have you become the victim of a game.”   
  
Credence looks up at the clear blue sky and sniffs a little. “I wish you had realized that before  _ you _ decided I was interesting.”   
  
That hurts him, Credence knows. He can feel the faint flicker of pain in his chest and it’s not his own and he thinks it’s fitting that the strongest thing he’s felt from Percy is pain that he’s inflicting himself.   
  
“Lesson learned, I suppose,” Percy says quietly.   
  
Credence inhales sharply and opens his mouth before he closes it. He pulls his phone away and hangs it up, something that feels rather like an icy spike driven into his heart making him shake with cold and pain and something else, something deeper. His phone rings and he mutes it, stuffs it in his pocket and leans back against the fence.   
  
He stares at the sky for a while and only lets a few tears fall. He wipes them angrily away, still as tired of crying as he was six years ago, and pushes himself away from the fence. He walks back inside and offers his help to Jon’s mother, who is beginning to get the large house ready for family visiting later on.   
  
She must see that he needs it, needs to keep busy, and tasks him with cutting a large amount of vegetables for dipping.   
  
——   
  
Graves forces himself to sleep the day away. It’s easier to shut his brain down than it is to watch television and think about Credence. Think about how he definitely hadn’t meant it to go like that, but it had, and now he hasn’t a clue how he’s supposed to make it right.   
  
If he even should. Perhaps not doing anything at all is what would make it right. Staying away, that’s what all of Credence’s friends had wanted from the beginning.   
  
He sleeps and doesn’t wake up until his alarm goes off at eight. He gets dressed and gets in his truck, because moving quickly does not cover long distances, and Grindelwald is just dramatic enough to choose some place nearly four hours away.   
  
But it’s Christmas evening and there isn’t a lot of traffic on the way out of the city.   
  
Graves turns on some hard rock and blasts it to drown out the thoughts and doesn’t look at his phone.    
  
He doesn’t text Credence.   
  
The drive is uneventful and it’s always peaceful driving through the forest, even if it’s dark and most of the roads are covered in salt, snow piled high up on the sides of it.   
  
He’s been to Skene Manor before, a long, long time ago, before it became a restaurant and tourist trap. It’s a beautiful old manor nestled in the forest and the perfect sort of place for Grindelwald to shack up in while he’s visiting America.   
  
When he parks and makes the walk up to the manor he’s not surprised that there is no one else here. Not only is it late, but he suspects Grindelwald has done something flashy like rent the entire place out. He approaches the doors and smells the bastard, but no one else. It’s not exactly a comfort, but he is glad he won’t have to deal with anyone else, because Grindelwald is perfectly tiring all on his own.   
  
Graves pushes the door open and steps inside, gazing around at the lowly lit manor.   
  
Personally, he thinks it’s not nearly as impressive inside as it is out, but he wanders down the foyer and turns into the parlor. Grindelwald is there, sitting in front of a roaring fireplace, a glass of bourbon in his hand.   
  
“Join me, Percival.”   
  
Graves shakes his head at the dramatics of it all and takes the second leather armchair a few feet away. There’s a small, ornate end table between them and on top of it a tray, with whiskey and a tumbler. Graves pours himself a glass and takes a drink.   
  
“Sorrow,” Grindelwald whispers as he gazes at the fireplace. “That’s interesting.”   
  
Graves smiles a little to himself. He’s not hiding it, though he puts on a show now as he attempts to. “You did make me look bad in front of him,” he says mildly.   
  
“So he left you.”   
  
“Don’t know quite yet,” Graves says. “But most likely. Thanks for that.”   
  
Grindelwald looks at him now, faintly amused. “You would have drained him not so long ago. What is it about the boy?”   
  
Graves looks down at his whiskey as he thinks about that and to avoid looking at Grindelwald’s ugly mug for a while. “The way he looks at me, I suppose.”   
  
“You’re not normally so susceptible to flattery.”   
  
“When you try to flatter me, it just comes out wrong,” Graves says as he looks at him with a wry smile. “He meant it.”   
  
“I do think a great deal of you, Percival,” Grindelwald says. “That is why I’m here, after all. I begin to miss you after so long. Though… there is something more.”   
  
Graves smirks. “I thought there might be. What can you trouble me for?”   
  
“A meeting,” Grindelwald says, serious now. “Under the Hunter’s Moon.” When Graves merely raises an eyebrow, he smiles. “Everyone will be there.”   
  
“You came to tell me about a meeting that won’t be happening until October,” he says dryly. “Where?”   
  
“Paris,” Grindelwald says. “Somewhere familiar.”   
  
Graves tips back the whiskey and pours himself another one. “My old stomping ground,” he says. “What makes you think I’m interested?”   
  
“Well, everybody who is anybody will be there,” Grindelwald says with amusement. “You happen to be one of those. It would be a shame if you missed it. You would disappoint so many. Father included.”   
  
That makes his nose twitch a little and Graves takes another drink. “He should be used to being disappointed in me. I doubt he’d miss me.”   
  
“I do believe he mentioned coming to visit if his ungrateful son didn’t bother showing,” Grindelwald says, with the particular sort of delight of a sadist.   
  
Graves looks at him. There is no lie in his voice, in his eyes, in the air. Satisfaction, yes, but Grindelwald is pompous enough to always stink of it. They’ve both been around too long to bother to hide anything from each other, as it’s difficult to, and Graves swirls the whiskey as he regrets that fact.   
  
“I suppose I have a while to prepare for that,” Graves says with a shrug. “Call me next time.”   
  
“What fun would that have been?” Grindelwald asks. “Though I am sorry for the loss of your boy, if he is indeed lost. Perhaps you’ll turn the next one before it can happen again.”   
  
“You sticking around for a few days?” Graves asks as he ignores him otherwise.   
  
“In the country, yes, but not here,” Grindelwald says with some dissatisfaction. “The city is so very boring. The stench is particularly bothersome.”   
  
Graves laughs. “It’s better than Europe 1346,” he says and raises his glass.   
  
“True,” Grindelwald says and clinks his glass against Graves’. “You can never quite forget that smell.”   
  
“I’m going back home,” Graves says after he’s tipped back the whiskey. “Rotten bastard, making me drive four hours out here for an invitation to a family get-together.”   
  
Grindelwald shrugs unrepentantly. “A fair warning before someone you despise even more than I comes knocking.”   
  
And that is a warning Graves will take seriously, but he has nearly a year to debate what to do about it. He won’t call that man  _ Father _ the way Grindelwald does, but he is not someone to be trifled with. If he doesn’t go to Paris next year, it may spell out the end for him, if he’s not careful.   
  
He leaves then, before he starts thinking about Credence, and Grindelwald lets him. Doesn’t follow, won’t follow. He gets in his truck and begins the drive back home.   
  
If Credence did decide he wanted to stay with Graves - if Graves decides to allow that, though he thinks he is powerless to say no to Credence in this regard - the danger that would come to him would be beyond what Graves could protect him from.   
  
Unless he turned him, but he won’t. He won’t do that to Credence. Not even if Credence asked him to.   
  
Graves gets home a little past five, a couple hours before the sun will rise, and goes inside. He looks around his home, smelling Credence everywhere and closes his eyes, committing him to memory, more than he already has.   
  
He sits on the sofa and turns his television on, back to Extreme Engagement, and thinks that when he sees Grindelwald again, he’s going to rip his throat out.   
  
——   
  
When Credence wakes the next morning, he thinks it was possibly the worst Christmas he’s ever had. He’s a little pissed off about it, because he’s only enjoyed a few Christmases so far, and he’s annoyed with himself for letting Percy get to him. Annoyed that he’s hurt Percy never texted.   
  
But he doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t tell Jon and Jon doesn’t ask. The only thing he asks Credence is if he wants to stay with him until classes start up again, but Credence doesn’t. He wants to go back to his apartment and work on his thesis, because that’ll keep his mind busy. He loves Jon’s family, but sitting around doing nothing but enjoying each other’s company sounds like torture, so Jon drives him back to campus.   
  
The hour drive goes by too quickly for his tastes and he can tell when they get into Manhattan that Jon is working up to the question now and hopes he can leap out of the car before he asks it, but he’s not so lucky.   
  
“Are you going to see him?” Jon finally asks, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.   
  
Credence glances at him, then out of the window. “I don’t know,” he says, because it’s honest and he doesn’t feel like lying. “It seems strange to pretend it never happened.”   
  
“Seems  _ safer _ to me,” Jon mutters. “But I know you love him.”   
  
They haven’t quite said it outright, but it’s true, so Credence doesn’t bother lying about that either. He doesn’t bother saying anything, because he doesn’t want to argue and because he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did.   
  
Jon parks near the senior residence halls. “You sure you’re going to be safe?”   
  
“Yes,” Credence says as he looks at Jon. “I really am.”   
  
Jon squints at him before he nods. “Alright. You know I love you, bud.”   
  
“Love you too,” Credence says and leans over, hugging Jon and squeezing his eyes shut before he pulls away. “I’ll text you later.”   
  
“Take care of yourself. See you in a few days.”   
  
Credence gets out and walks to his building, knowing Jon won’t leave until he sees him get inside. He takes the elevator to the sixth floor and gets inside his apartment, looking around. It’s not exactly the homecoming he was expecting to feel.   
  
It looks small and messy and undecorated, no real comforts. He misses Percy’s comfortable grey sofa, the thick blanket they’d curl up under, listening to him grouse about his various horrible Netflix shows.   
  
He misses  _ Percy _ and it hits him so squarely in the chest that he feels he might not be able to stay on his feet. But Credence does make it to his bedroom, to his desk, and he pulls out his laptop and opens it, staring at it.   
  
Credence sighs. He was fooling himself if he thought he’d get any work done today. He pulls out his phone and looks at the last message Percy had sent him.   
  
_ Come to Central Park, we’re going to look at the Christmas lights. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ You, me, and the Scooby gang? _   
  
It had made Credence laugh. Makes him laugh now and he smiles at his phone, even if he’s a little teary as he does it.   
  
He takes his laptop to his bed and lays down and opens Netflix himself. If Credence can’t get any work done, then he supposes he should enjoy some mindless entertainment of his own, to hopefully keep his mind off of things.   
  
Maybe that’s why Percy watches what he does.   
  
Credence scrounges from the dining hall and vending machines, texting his friends back when they message him, and does absolutely nothing otherwise.   
  
It might normally make him feel good, but by the time nine is rolling around, he feels a little sick and a lot emotional and is prepared to send Percy an angry text or delete his number altogether, when something hits his window.   
  
Credence jumps and fumbles with his phone.   
  
It wasn’t heavy, more of a tap, but he’s six floors up and there are no trees in front of the window. He blinks at it for a while and raises his eyebrows when there’s another tap, distinctly a pebble, and he groans.   
  
“Oh my God,” he mutters.   
  
There’s only one person he knows who would be dramatic enough to throw rocks at his window and actually hit their mark six floors up.   
  
His room is dark, except his laptop screen, but he has a feeling that doesn’t stop a vampire from knowing where he is.   
  
Credence climbs out of bed and walks to his window, pushing a few items on his desk aside, and opens the blinds. He squints down at the street below and sees a dark figure standing on the opposite side, leaning against his truck. Credence sighs a little and unlocks and opens his window, leaning over his desk.   
  
“Go away!”   
  
“Come down!”   
  
“I don’t want to see you right now!”   
  
“You’re a terrible liar, Credence.”   
  
Credence sighs and purses his lips. “You could have called,” he says loudly. “Or, I don’t know,  _ texted _ me.”   
  
_ “Shut up!”  _ someone from inside the building yells.   
  
He can hear Percy’s chuckle and tries to ignore the little thrill it gives him. “Get down here, I want to show you something. Dress warm!”   
  
Credence scowls for a while. He’s still angry, thinks he will be for some time yet, but Percy is here. He’s right down there, whole and alive, himself, and he’s here for Credence. He hasn’t abandoned him, hasn’t made the decision for them, and Credence closes his eyes and hopes that’s not what he’s walking into.   
  
He closes and locks the window and shuts the blinds before he gets dressed in a few layers and pulls on his warmest winter coat, along with a beanie. Once he’s put on his shoes, he locks up the apartment and heads outside. It’s cold, winter wind icy against his cheeks, and he thinks it’s probably only going to get colder, wherever Percy wants to take him.   
  
Credence crosses the street and walks toward him, biting his lip. Percy is in a different coat than he normally is and he knows why. But he looks good, freshly shaven and rested, his eyes bright, a small, but pleased smile on his lips.   
  
“You alright?” he asks.   
  
“No,” Credence says. “Why am I dressing warm?”   
  
“It’s cold out,” Percy says and smirks a little as Credence rolls his eyes. “I want to show you something, I said. You up for a drive?”   
  
Credence wants to be ornery, just because, but he doesn’t really have it in him. “Fine,” he says and walks around the truck, hopping inside and ignoring the instant warmth and comfort of the familiarity of it.   
  
Percy gets in and starts the truck, turning the heat on for Credence, before he begins to drive. They don’t say anything for a while. It’s not until they’re getting onto the 17 in New Jersey that Credence frowns.   
  
“How far of a drive?”   
  
“Couple of hours.”   
  
“Couple of hours?” Credence complains. “I thought you meant a half hour.”   
  
“This isn’t that much longer than that,” Percy says, amused. “Go to sleep, if you want.”   
  
Credence sighs and looks out of the window at the passing city. “I won’t be able to,” he says quietly. He looks at Percy. “How did…?”   
  
“Later,” Percy says and reaches over, touching Credence’s arm. He’s gone too soon, putting his hand back on the steering wheel. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get there.”   
  
Credence frowns but he nods and looks out of the window again. The truck is nice, the ride smooth, and after another half hour of driving, the radio pitched low, Credence does fall asleep.   
  
When he feels Percy’s hand on his arm, gently shaking him awake, he blinks and sits up more, looking out of the window. They’re surrounded by a forest and when he squints ahead at a sign, he scoffs.   
  
“We’re in Pennsylvania?”   
  
“Lake Wallenpaupack,” Percy says with amusement. “I wanted to wake you up because it’s going to get a little bumpy.”   
  
“It’s dark,” Credence says. “Snowy. You want to go off-road?”   
  
“I have gone off-road in vehicles not meant for it and this one actually is,” Percy says. “Just hold on if you need to.”   
  
Credence sighs and grips the door as Percy continues driving past the entrance to the lake, closed now, and further into the forest. He turns onto a snow-covered road - or, at least, Credence hopes it is - and drives down it carefully, avoiding things Credence can’t even see on the ground.   
  
It’s not that far of a drive, merely a sort of half circle, past the visitors center, and just before Percy drives out onto the lakeshore, he flips the lights off. He turns the truck around, so the bed faces the frozen lake, and then turns off the engine.   
  
“You’ve brought me out here to freeze to death,” Credence says dryly.   
  
Percy laughs. “I could have done that much closer to Manhattan,” he says with a wink before he climbs out of the truck.   
  
Credence stays inside it for a while, chasing the last bit of warmth from the heater, as he listens to Percy climbing around in the bed of the truck. When he knocks on the window, Credence gets out and is glad he wore his sturdier boots as he walks across the fresh snowfall and toward the back of the truck. He looks at the bed and raises his eyebrows.   
  
There’s an air mattress there, and two sleeping bags, zipped together into one, and a little portable heat lamp, aimed at one side of the sleeping bag. Credence looks at Percy as he stands on the tailgate, handing Credence a pair of wool gloves.   
  
He takes them, pulling them on, and frowns. “Are we sleeping out here?”   
  
“Probably not,” Percy says and offers his hand.   
  
Credence takes it and climbs onto the tailgate, kicking his boots off and gladly burrowing his way under the sleeping bag, his breath clouding in front of him. The heat lamp is particularly nice and he watches as Percy gazes at him, smiling. He follows Credence and lays down next to him.   
  
“Turn it off for a minute.”   
  
Credence does, mourning the loss of heat, but when he looks up, he gasps.   
  
The night sky is clearer than Credence thinks he’s ever seen it. The stars are huge and vibrant, not a single space of sky without one, and some twinkle blue and green and red. Credence stares, biting his lip, and only jumps a little when a shooting star flies overhead, disappearing quickly.   
  
“It’s beautiful,” he says softly. “It’s hard to see shooting stars in the city.”   
  
“It’s only just getting started,” Percy says. “Should really get going in the next hour or two.”   
  
“A meteor shower?” Credence asks as he looks at him.   
  
Percy has his hands behind his head and nods as he gazes at the sky. “I would have preferred to take you to Cherry Springs. Best view in the country,” he says and looks at Credence with a smile. “But it’s a five hour drive and I just did one of those last night.”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “Where’d you go?” he asks and looks up again, because he doesn’t want to miss anything. “Oh, there were two then.”   
  
“I went to Skene Manor,” Percy says, a smile in his voice. “This is much nicer.”   
  
“He wanted you to meet him at Skene Manor? Of all places?”   
  
“He’s very theatrical.”   
  
“Yeah, I think I know something about that,” Credence mutters, but smiles when Percy chuckles. “What’s this guy’s name?”   
  
“Gellert Grindelwald,” Percy says. “Don’t know how he can stand to go by either of those. I’ve known him my entire life. Well, this life, but the one before it too.”   
  
“That long? You two have been doing this for that long?” Credence asks with disbelief. “Why?”   
  
Percy hums. “He likes to antagonize me, remember? That’s what big brothers are for.”   
  
Credence gasps so hard he chokes a little and coughs, sitting up on his elbow and looking at Percy with wide eyes. “What?” he finally manages to wheeze. “He’s your—”   
  
Percy puts his finger over Credence’s lips, looking far too amused. “Not by blood. By vampiric standards, yes,” he says and moves his hand to the back of Credence’s neck to squeeze it gently. “We were turned by the same man.”   
  
“Your father?” Credence asks after a long moment of silence.   
  
“My father is dust buried in a long forgotten cemetery in the French countryside,” Percy says wryly. “This is only the man who turned me. I don’t share the views some of my kind do. Those fledglings you saw, they would have called Grindelwald  _ Father,  _ because he turned them. I’ve turned a few myself but I certainly don’t call them my children. They’re only my kind. Patriarchies get messy and I don’t like them.”   
  
Credence stares at him as he processes that. He shakes his head. “So your… not-brother antagonizes you by sending his children to get killed by you?”   
  
“Messy.”   
  
Credence sighs and lays back down, looking up at the sky.  _ “Why?” _   
  
“Because he’s a fucking maniac,” Percy mutters. “He came to warn me.”   
  
“Warn you? For something  _ other _ than him?”   
  
“Mhmm,” Percy hums. “I’m going to have to leave.” He touches Credence’s arm, under the sleeping bag, when he tenses up. “Not until next year. Not until October, actually, but Daddy has called a meeting that he expects me at. I’m his most disappointing son, you see. Grindelwald gave me a fair warning that if I don’t go to Paris, I can expect him to come here.”   
  
“Oh my God,” Credence mutters. “Is this some weird vampire coven ritual thing?”   
  
Percy laughs. “Close enough. It’s a lot of centuries-old vampires getting together to bemoan the state of the world, feed on virgin blood, create some children of their own, and suck up to the eldest among us. I’m one of those. I didn’t go to the last two of these get-togethers because they bore me to tears and I do hate the old man.”   
  
“I thought you didn’t regret him turning you.”   
  
“I don’t,” Percy says. “I regret what he asked me to be after he did.”   
  
Credence frowns for a while as he watches a few more meteors pass overhead. “Why are you telling me this?”   
  
“Because I’ve been thinking about it all day,” Percy says. “If I should go or not. Not, and take my chances on him coming here to scold me or kill me or both. Go, and take my chances on him scolding me and forcing me to do whatever bidding he feels like, while he has me in Europe.”   
  
“So you decided to go?”   
  
“I did,” Percy says. “It guarantees my life.”   
  
“You’re going to let him tell you what to do?”   
  
“No,” Percy says. “I’m going to kill him.”   
  
Credence blinks a few times before he slowly sits up and looks at Percy’s face. Percy looks back at him, his eyes dark, serious, but still soft, the way they always are when he looks at Credence.   
  
He licks his lips nervously. “And what if he kills you instead?”   
  
Percy shrugs. “He’s old. Comfortable. I have the element of surprise and youth on my side,” he says and smiles. “But if he does kill me, it’ll be one hell of a story for the others.”   
  
Credence looks away, out over the frozen water, and shakes his head. “This is a goodbye,” he says, iciness in his heart again, a lump in his throat. “You’re saying goodbye to me.”   
  
“No,” Percy says and reaches for Credence again, reaches still, when he flinches away. His hand grasps Credence’s jaw and he makes Credence look at him, and Credence tries to blink away the tears. “I’m giving you a choice. Stick with me until I leave and stick with me when I come back. Or stick with me and prepare for me to not come back.”   
  
“I can’t choose that,” Credence says fiercely. “You can’t even fucking ask me to. You can’t ask—”   
  
“Stick with me,” Percy says firmly. “While I get ready to kill him. While I get stronger. Stick with me while I prepare myself for it so you don’t have to worry about me not coming back.”   
  
Credence shakes his head. “Things go wrong,” he says hoarsely. “One mistake, that’s all it would take, and I would have to deal with the fallout of it. Of watching you go one day and never seeing you come back.”   
  
“That’s not going to happen.”   
  
“You  _ don’t know that.” _   
  
“I do know it, Credence,” Percy says and it’s cold, like winter wind, biting into his chest. “Whether you stay or go, I have something worth fighting for. I have something worth killing him for, the way I never did before. Because if I kill him, no one will come after me. No one will come after you.”   
  
“How do you know?” Credence asks, a little desperately. “That’s what you’re doing to him.”   
  
“Seven hundred years later,” Percy says with a wry smile. “The patriarchy isn’t upset often. They don’t like it when it happens. They’ll be content to let things quiet down, for as long as possible. I’ll be safe. And you would too… if you stick with me. Even if you choose to wait until I come back, you’ll be safe.”   
  
“I sort of hate you for asking me to make this kind of choice,” Credence says thickly. “It’s not so easy for me to walk away.”   
  
Percy smiles. “I know the feeling,” he says as he squeezes Credence’s shoulder. “I’m yours, if you want me. I’m yours, even if you do walk away.”   
  
“Don’t say that,” Credence whispers and squeezes his eyes shut. He sniffs and lays down again, slinging an arm over Percy’s ribs and pressing his cheek against his arm, as Percy’s hand lays over the back of his neck. “I can’t decide right now.”   
  
“I’m not asking you to,” Percy says quietly. “You’ve got time, love.”   
  
Credence moves closer and leans in, kissing Percy’s neck, up to his jaw, and when Percy turns toward him, his lips, even cooler than usual, but warming under his own. He squeezes Percy’s coat, over his heart, the beat absent beneath his hand. He kisses him, gently, and pulls away with a soft sigh.   
  
“I do love you,” Credence says.   
  
“I know you do,” Percy says and chuckles as Credence wrinkles his nose. “I love you too. More than you know.”   
  
“No, I think I know,” Credence says. “You’re going to kill your dad because you want to be with me.”   
  
Percy laughs and his eyes glitter with mirth, with the stars above, with love, and he smiles. “There is that,” he says and laughs again, when Credence kisses him.   
  
They stay like that for some time, until they’re out of breath, and the meteors above pass over more frequently. Credence lays on his back again to watch them, his fingers intertwined with Percy’s under the sleeping bag. They watch the meteor shower for hours, talking now and then, but it’s close to dawn when they really pick up. Percy tells Credence to make a wish and he does.   
  
_ I wish that we both get what we want. I wish to love you for as long as you’ll let me, that maybe we can find a way to make it work forever, but maybe that’s too much of a wish. I wish to love and be loved by you, and I wish for a happy ending for us both. _ _   
_   
When the sun begins to rise and Credence is drifting off under the heat lamp, curled against Percy’s side, Percy manages to convince him to crawl out from the warmth so they can go back to Manhattan. It’s even colder now and Credence shivers as he waits for the truck to heat up, while Percy packs everything up. He joins Credence and they begin the journey home. Credence sleeps nearly the entire way there, until the sound of morning traffic wakes him up and he realizes Percy is driving toward NYU.   
  
He asks him to take him home instead.   
  
Percy merely smiles and does.   
  
The house is cool but Percy turns on the heat for Credence and they walk upstairs into the bedroom, shedding their clothes to get into pajamas and though Credence is tired, so very, very tired, he looks Percy over.   
  
His faintly hairy chest and stomach, his solidness, the lines of his abdomen, without being overly defined, and sighs gently.   
  
“Oh no,” Percy says, without even looking at him, shaking his finger. “You need rest, my love.”   
  
“I think I need you.”   
  
Percy looks up with some exasperation and laughs as Credence grins. “You’re going to fall asleep halfway through.”   
  
Credence shakes his head. “I’m really not,” he says and smiles. “I want to go slow. Please, Percy.”   
  
“Well,” Percy sighs. “You know I’m powerless against a  _ please.” _   
  
And they do take it slowly. Percy lays Credence down and kisses him, kisses along his body, until his skin begins to feel like it’s on fire. He bites gently as he goes, which always drives Credence a little mad, especially when there are no fangs, and it’s not until he’s shivering, breathing shakily, that he asks Percy to fuck him.   
  
Percy opens him up with lube and fingers that are cool, but quickly heat up inside of him, and he kisses Credence through it. Kisses his moans and gasps, sucks a bruise against his neck as he gently thrusts his fingers and curls them occasionally, drawing a husky moan out of Credence.   
  
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Percy whispers into his ear before he bites Credence’s earlobe.   
  
“Ready,” Credence gasps as he spreads his legs more. “Ready for you.”   
  
Percy nods and kisses him once more before he sits up and grabs the lube. He slicks himself up before he presses himself against Credence. Percy looks at him then and Credence gazes back, smiling through the heat, and nods.   
  
It gets easier every time Percy gently slides into him, his body accustomed to him, to everything that is Percy, and Credence wraps his legs around Percy’s waist to drag him in deeper.   
  
They both moan and Percy presses his forehead against Credence’s as he begins to rock into him, slowly, the room dark and warm, only the faintest hint of light around the edges of the blackout curtains.   
  
Credence kisses Percy, languid and lazy, a soft moan hummed against him each time Percy presses in deep. He digs his nails into Percy’s back until he’s got him moaning too, his hips stuttering, before he moves just a little bit faster.   
  
Moans turn into gasps and Credence tilts his head back against the pillow as Percy kisses along his neck, pressing his lips firmly against his fluttering heartbeat. He moves further down, over the nape of his neck.   
  
Credence wants to ask,  _ desperately _ wants to ask, his cock leaping between their stomachs, leaking heavily, a sticky mess against them both.   
  
But Credence doesn’t have to ask. He feels fangs against his neck and his jaw drops open in anticipation of the sting. It comes, quickly, and he cries out, digging his nails deeper into Percy’s back.   
  
And Percy usually pulls his fangs out quickly, licking up the blood, but this time he stays and Credence shudders, because he can feel it. He can feel Percy pulling blood out of him and feels lightheaded with the thought of it.   
  
It sends a certain thrill through him, straight to his cock, and yet there is something about it, something that casts a pleasant fog over his mind, something relaxing in it.   
  
He wants Percy to fuck him hard into the mattress so he can come, but he never wants him to stop, never wants the slow glide of his cock in and out to end, as he drinks Credence’s blood.   
  
“Fuck,” Credence moans, that sort of conflict putting him on edge, in the best of ways. “That feels so good. More, Percy, please.”   
  
Percy groans against him and presses harder, faster, and Credence merely holds on, crying out with each thrust.   
  
“I have to come,” he says, a bit frantically, when it all becomes overwhelming. “Please, Percy, please, please—”   
  
Percy releases him, moving up a bit, and looks down at Credence, blood on his lips, on his teeth, and he licks his lips and his eyes flutter shut, as if Credence is the most divine thing he’s ever tasted.   
  
“I’ve got you,” he whispers and reaches between them, wrapping his hand tight around Credence’s cock. He begins to move quickly, the way Credence wants it, and moves back to the bite.   
  
Credence hisses as he feels Percy’s tongue licking the wounds, the pain and pleasure of it pushing him closer, but when Percy dives his fangs in again, an inch or so away from that wound, he throws his head back and comes with a cry.   
  
His hands scrabble over Percy’s back as Percy works his cock through it, warmth spreading between their stomachs.   
  
Percy continues to suck at the new bite, his thrusting more erratic, until he pulls away again and tilts his head back. “Gonna fill you, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice gravelly and ruined, and the sight of him, heady with desire, Credence’s blood on his mouth, dripping down his chin, is something Credence will not forget.   
  
“Please,” Credence gasps, moving his hand to Percy’s mouth, touching the blood there, until Percy takes his fingers in and sucks on them.   
  
He thrusts twice more before he buries himself deep, coming with a low groan, watching Credence through it.   
  
Percy gently presses against him, gasping when he’s finished, his arms shaking and Credence wraps his own tightly around him, his legs still locked around his waist.   
  
“Fuck,” Percy whispers and licks a few more beads of blood away before he heals the wounds.   
  
Credence loves the bite, loves the pain, but there’s something sweet about Percy taking it away too, taking care of him, not letting him bleed more than he needs to.   
  
Percy kisses along Credence’s jaw, his neck, collar and chest, smearing blood as he goes and when he pulls back again and observes his work, his cock gives a feeble twitch.   
  
“I don’t think either of us can do it again,” Credence laughs and Percy joins him.   
  
“You’re probably right,” he says and gently pulls out of Credence. He gets out of bed and the sight of him a little wobbly makes Credence grin.   
  
Percy gets a washcloth from the bathroom wet with warm water and comes back out, cleaning the come and blood away, though he looks mildly put out to see it go. Credence grins and tilts his head back, closing his eyes, and thinks about love.   
  
Love and how strong it can be. How right it can be, when you find your person. He’s found his person, in the strangest of ways, and he is deeply in love and deeply, wholly happy.   
  
Percy washes his mouth after disposing of the washcloth and when he climbs back into bed, he kisses Credence, slowly, softly, and nuzzles against his neck after.   
  
“Sleep, sweetheart.”   
  
“Mhmm,” Credence hums and smiles as Percy wraps his arm around him. “Love you.”   
  
“Love you too.”   
  
It’s easy to fall asleep then, exhaustion in his mind and body, and he does so with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graves through this fic: fuck them kids man


	3. Chapter 3

Credence stays with Percy for the rest of his fall break. It’s the longest they’ve been able to spend together and he thoroughly enjoys it. They’re safe there, warm, and locked away from the real world for a little while.  
  
He texts his friends every day but he doesn’t tell them that he’s with Percy and they don’t ask. Not yet, anyway, he fully expects them to when they’re back on campus.  
  
But it can’t last forever and on the morning of January 3rd, Percy drives Credence back to campus a couple hours before his first class. He’s got his sunglasses on but he’s wearing such a horrible scowl that Credence can’t help snickering at now and then.  
  
“It’s funny for you,” Percy says. “I’m half-blinded here and might kill us both before we get there.”  
  
“Just me, probably,” Credence says as he looks at Percy with a grin.  
  
It is bright, he has to stay, and the light reflecting off of the snow is rather blinding. But Percy gets him to campus, all in one piece, and deigns to kiss Credence goodbye.  
  
“Have a good day,” he says. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”  
  
“Just a bit,” Credence says. “When my friends try to murder me.”  
  
“I will gladly avenge you if they do,” Percy says. “I will take great pleasure in it actually.”  
  
Credence shakes his head as he climbs out of the truck. “Go hibernate,” he says. “Bye.”  
  
“Bye, sweetheart,” Percy says before Credence closes the door.  
  
Credence watches him drive away with a smile. He walks to the senior residence halls and gets what he needs for class before he heads out. He’s surprised at how fast time has flown by, but he supposes if it didn’t with how busy he is with schoolwork, it would with how busy he is in his personal life.  
  
When he steps inside the classroom, only a few students are there, blinking tiredly at their laptops. Credence sees Mina and Lucy and joins them, smiling.  
  
“Oh my God,” Mina mutters, before he can ask how their New Year went, “he’s glowing.”  
  
Credence frowns. “I’m not glowing,” he says as he sits.  
  
“You kind of are. Like, a lot,” Lucy says as she looks at him and sighs. “Oh, Credence, the biggest hypocrite of us all.”  
  
Mina laughs and nods in agreement. “I don’t know if I should ask what song you want at the wedding or at the funeral.”  
  
Credence rolls his eyes. “Nothing bad is going to happen,” he says and shrugs when they gape at him. “Really. We don’t have anything to worry about.”  
  
“What, did he kill the other guy?”  
  
“No, that was his brother,” Credence says as he opens his laptop. He takes some satisfaction in the way they stare in horror at him. “But he’s not interested in me. I’ll tell you about it later, at lunch. All of you,” he adds, as he sees Quint and Jon come into the classroom.  
  
“Credence is banging the vamp again,” Mina announces, to a few dubious stares of other classmates and Credence’s blush. “We are officially done trying to talk him out of it.”  
  
“Jesus,” Quint mutters. “It’s not even nine.”  
  
“Credence, bud,” Jon says as he sits next to him. “I love you, but I’m really starting to think about kicking your ass.”  
  
Credence shrugs. “I’ll tell you what’s going on later. Touch me and Percy might not like it,” he adds, with a smile.  
  
Quint hums as he opens his own laptop. “That guy can probably punt you across MetLife, Jon, don’t go threatening his mate.”  
  
Credence - and Mina - shudder. “Boyfriend. This isn’t the Middle Ages.”  
  
“Right. Modern world, modern vampires,” Lucy says with amusement. “Our senior year is definitely interesting.”  
  
They all mumble various agreements, however grudging, as Professor Abraham strides in and their day begins.  
  
At lunch, Credence tells them what Percy had told him. They all stare at him with different levels of shock and he shrugs. He can’t help what life has thrown at either of them. It is what it is and maybe some days he wishes he had met Percy in a normal sort of way, but he didn’t.  
  
“So you’ve decided?” Lucy asks. “To stay with him?”  
  
Credence bites his lip. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone before,” he says quietly. “I’m not sure I could stay away until October even if I tried.”  
  
“You wouldn’t go to Paris with him, right?” Quint asks.  
  
“No,” Credence says. “He said it would be too dangerous.”  
  
Jon scrubs his hand over his face. “This is crazy,” he mutters. “What if he does die? You’re only going to be twenty-three, Credence, that’s a little young to lose someone you love like that.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Credence says slowly. They look like they pity him and he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to explain it. He’s so confident about it, but that’s not it either. I just feel it. He’s going to do what he needs to do and he’s going to come back. It’ll be okay.”  
  
“So let’s say that _does_ happen. You get everything you want,” Mina says. “And you two stay together despite all the normal relationship garbage after. What are you going to do about your mortality?”  
  
“Hopefully die at a ripe old age,” Credence says. “I don’t know. That’s a long time from now, Mina, I can’t predict the future. But he’s not turning me. I don’t want it and neither does he.”  
  
“Isn’t that a little suspicious?” Quint asks, squinting through his glasses. “That he doesn’t?”  
  
Lucy hums. “I think it’s pretty selfless, actually. He’s choosing to let Credence go through his life normally, the way he wants, and he’s willing to watch it happen. He loves Credence too much to want to burden him with immortality, even if it meant they could always be together.”  
  
Credence blushes a little and sips from his water bottle. “I think that’s basically it, yeah,” he says as his friends eye him and each other. “I don’t know how long this will last, but I’m going to enjoy it while it does. And I know it’ll last past this year,” he adds when Jon opens his mouth.  
  
Jon sighs and crosses his arms. “Why’d you have to bring up your neighbor, huh?” he asks Lucy, but it’s with dry amusement more than anything else. “We could have been living normal lives.”  
  
“This is undoubtedly more exciting,” Mina says. “Credence’s boyfriend ruined Shawn for me.”  
  
Credence frowns. “I hope that’s not true.”  
  
“No, really, it is. He kept droning on and on about football and I found myself wishing he would shut up about it and be more exciting. More unique.”  
  
“Well, Mister Graves has to know some exciting and unique people,” Lucy says with a smirk. “We could all bag us a vampire.”  
  
Credence shakes his head as he finishes his lunch. “I’m going back to class,” he says. “Don’t ask Percy to hook you up with any vampires, please.”  
  
“Why do you get to have all the fun?”  
  
“I have to say _fun_ is not how I’d describe the last couple of months,” Quint mutters.  
  
Jon points at him. “Are we the last two sane ones here?”  
  
“You _did_ go to the cemetery in the middle of the night to confront an immortal vampire, soo…” Lucy shrugs.  
  
“Bye,” Credence says loudly and walks out of the hall and toward his next class, thinking, again, that he should find new friends.  
  
——  
  
Credence chooses him.  
  
Graves knew he would, at first, but he’s wary about the coming months. If Credence will still choose him, in the spring or summer or fall, or if he will leave. And if he leaves, will he come back?  
  
It’s something that sticks with him for a while. January passes quickly enough, considering he spends most of it asleep, if he’s not with Credence. And that’s a rarity anymore, so much so that Credence moves out of the senior residence halls and into his home.  
  
Lucy’s parents eye him a little more dubiously after that, but they don’t say anything and he doesn’t particularly care.  
  
Graves lets Credence drive the truck if he isn’t using it himself, so he can avoid the morning and afternoon glare of the winter sun, which hurts his eyes and makes him feel like he’s moving through water, slow and uncomfortable.  
  
Credence stays in the city, often until after the sun has fallen, working harder on his thesis now, through February, as the group project is close to completion, though they’re early. They’re all dedicated to their education and Graves wonders what it’s going to be like, when they graduate.  
  
Will the gang stick together or grow up and move on? Take jobs out of the city, meet up monthly, then yearly? Graves doubts he’s that lucky.  
  
These are lifelong friends, he thinks, a completely forgein concept to him, but Credence is happy and deserves to be so.  
  
Graves has picked up small bits of Credence’s past over the months and he knows what he’s gone through, what his adopted mother did to him for years, and he wants to hunt her down, make her scream, but he won’t because Credence wouldn’t want that either. He’s got a soft heart, something Graves would normally scoff at, but it’s what he loves most about him.  
  
Graves himself has been slowly reawakening as winter fades into spring. He begins to plan now, plan the way he wants it to go in Paris. He’s confident in himself, in the ability to kill, but he’ll be surrounded by many vampires of the same age and strength as him. Grindelwald will be there, at his father’s side, and he is Graves’ biggest concern.  
  
Will Grindelwald kneel, if Graves kills their sire? He doesn’t know, but he knows that he can’t kill Grindelwald at the same time. That would be tactless, it would look petty and self-achieving, power hungry, so he hopes Grindelwald does not force his hand.  
  
He trusts no one, really, but there are old contacts in Europe he can call, to hear what’s been happening there, to dig a little, merely normal interest to them, but to him, reliable and potentially interesting information.  
  
So Graves makes the calls, mostly when Credence isn’t home, and talks to people he hasn’t talked to in decades, some far longer than that. They croon at him in French, German, Romanian, Hungarian and he pretends he’s glad to hear from them, is eager to see them under the Hunter’s Moon, and stores away anything interesting they mention in passing.  
  
The old man has been working diligently, quietly, never too showy himself. There are far more vampires in Europe and they’re a less civilized lot than in America - they’re messier, more out in the open with their crimes, and from what Graves can gather, they’re turning people too quickly these days.  
  
The larger the population, the more easily they will be hunted down. They risk exposure with too many fledglings running around and boasting to the wrong people. Lena in Paris tells him it’s Grindelwald’s doing and that most aren’t happy about it, because they’re comfortable living their lives and don’t want exposure, and to go against their own laws.  
  
He seems hellbent on it and she whispers that their sire must be the reason for it. Grindelwald wouldn’t act without his approval, she says, and that is beginning to sour them to other vampires in Europe.  
  
It’s what Graves had hoped for. A fault in the armor, one he can sink his teeth into.  
  
Credence comes home one night, when Graves is in the middle of arguing with Pierre over French vampiric culture, and Graves hangs up on him after a while with a sigh.  
  
When he looks at Credence, who is gaping at him, he frowns. “What?”  
  
“Please… _please_ take me upstairs and talk dirty to me in French.”  
  
That becomes one of many things Credence likes, though biting and being drunk from are still his favorites.  
  
When the first week of April comes through, with spring showers and the first bloom of flowers, their scent always nearly as intoxicating as Credence’s blood, he realizes that Credence has somehow bamboozled him into feeding from him, mostly during sex, so much so that he hasn’t needed to go to his donor in months.  
  
It’s been since before Halloween that he’s even hunted.  
  
Graves, as he drinks from Credence one night, wryly thinks he _has_ been tamed.  
  
It’s when Credence’s gentle hums of content become a little weaker that he lifts his head and looks at him. They’ve both finished, but Credence finds it as relaxing as most people do, and Graves often takes more from him before tucking him into bed most days of the week.  
  
“Too much,” Graves declares as he sits up on Credence’s lap, frowning. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”  
  
Credence is pale and his eyes are half-lidded, but he smiles. “No, it’s good,” he says softly. “Really good. Keep going. But turn off the lights first, it’s really bright in here.”  
  
“That’s the delirium,” Graves sighs. “There are no lights on in here, only the window.” Graves bites himself, in between his index finger and thumb, and moves his hand to Credence’s mouth. “Open.”  
  
Credence grimaces as he looks at the blood beading up on Graves’ hand. “Is it going to make me sick again?”  
  
“It won’t,” Graves says and smiles a little as Credence tentatively moves his mouth around the wounds.  
  
He grimaces, because he’s mortal and any and all blood isn’t appetizing to him, but Graves makes sure he swallows a few drops before pulling his hand back.  
  
Color steadily returns to Credence’s skin and he blinks a few times, the glassy look in his eyes fading, the wound on his shoulder closing up, and he frowns, as if confused.  
  
“Too much,” Graves says again, apologetically. “We set timers sometimes if donors aren’t good at keeping track themselves.”  
  
Credence blinks again. “Timers?” he asks. “Really?” He shakes his head and blinks a few more times, sitting up more. “I didn’t even notice it was more than normal.”  
  
“There’s a reason people who are attacked don’t fight back for long,” Graves says with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have drained you.”  
  
“I’m sure that’s true,” Credence says and raises his eyebrows. “But let’s set a timer next time.”  
  
Graves laughs. “I will,” he says and climbs off of Credence carefully, walking into the bathroom. He cleans the mess between his legs and the blood from his mouth before he brings a fresh washcloth out for Credence. “Better?”  
  
Credence nods as he cleans himself up. “Yeah, a lot,” he says. “It’s too bad vampires can’t donate blood to science.”  
  
“We’re typically against exposure, Credence,” Graves says with a chuckle as he sits on the bed next to him. “Now that I’m set for the week, I wanted to talk to you about something.”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “What’s that?”  
  
“I’m going to be inviting someone over a few nights a week for a while,” Graves says. “I need to practice being unreadable. I haven’t flexed those muscles in a while, no real need to, but I’m going to _need_ to be unreadable in Paris.”  
  
“Another vampire?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“How can you trust them?”  
  
“Because I turned her,” Graves says with a faint smile. “Her loyalties lie with me. She won’t betray me.”  
  
Credence frowns. “You haven’t talked about her before,” he says. “Why not?”  
  
“Because she’s not someone I see often,” Graves says. “We aren’t friends, but she’ll help me all the same.”  
  
“Why did you turn her?”  
  
“She asked me to.”  
  
“Why though?” Credence asks quietly.  
  
Graves shrugs. “She had her reasons, just like I did,” he says. “You’ll like her. She’s nearly as cold-hearted as me.”  
  
Credence huffs a little and lays down, looking up at Graves with a smile. “So she’s a big softie.”  
  
“You wound me,” Graves says. “I’ve spent centuries building up a reputation as a bastard. I think you’re the only one in the world who thinks otherwise. But I suppose you’re the only one that matters.”  
  
“Thank you,” Credence says with an amused smile. “Though I do think you’re a bastard half the time too.”  
  
“Well,” Graves sighs. “Can’t go completely soft, can I?”  
  
——  
  
Graves can’t convince Credence to go out on the night she’s due over. He’d tried, a few times, but Credence wants to meet her, wants to see what they’re doing, and Graves knows it isn’t from a place of jealousy or suspicion.  
  
He wants to help, in any way he can, and Graves tries not to tell him that being less distracting would help, because it sounds rude, but he means it in the best of ways.  
  
After drinking a glass of whiskey, mourning the fact that it does nothing for him, there is a knock on the door. It’s nine on the dot and Graves sighs as he looks at Credence next to him. Credence merely smiles.  
  
“You better answer that.”  
  
Graves groans a little as he gets off the sofa and wanders down the hall, unlocking and opening the door.  
  
She’s as beautiful as she’s always been, her bright blonde hair a lovely contrast to her black skin and dark clothes, which she’s always preferred.  
  
“Percival,” she says as she looks him over from head to toe. “This is a change.”  
  
“They’re sweatpants. We live in a world of comfort, Sera, get with the times,” Graves says as he steps aside to let her in. “Stunning as always.”  
  
She smiles, a sharpness to it that he’s always liked, as she gazes around his home. He leads her down the foyer and into the living room, looking at Credence on the sofa, as he peers over it at Seraphina.  
  
“This is him then,” Sera says as she looks at Credence. “The one everyone spoke of over the holidays.”  
  
“Credence Barebone,” Graves says. “Credence, this is Seraphina Picquery.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Credence says and sounds a little intimidated.  
  
Sera smirks and glances at Graves. “Young, isn’t he? Very young.”  
  
Graves sighs and shakes his head at Credence as he frowns rather obstinately. “Young for us, sweetheart,” he says and looks at Sera. “A little respect, Sera.”  
  
“Of course, sire,” she purrs.  
  
“Call me that again and see if I don’t break your spine.”  
  
“Temper, temper,” Sera says and sighs as she shakes her head, the teasing gone. “You’ve a long way to go, Percy.”  
  
Graves takes in a deep, fortifying breath and nods. “Fair point,” he says. “What else?”  
  
“We can’t do it in here,” Sera says as she looks around, eyes drifting over Credence rather pointedly. “Is there a place that’s not crawling with Mister Barebone’s scent?”  
  
Credence looks like he doesn’t know if he should be offended or not, but Graves can see that point too.  
  
“The backyard,” Graves says with a smirk.  
  
“What are you two talking about?” Credence finally asks. “Why can’t it happen with my scent around?”  
  
“Because he’s mad with it,” Sera says as she looks at Credence. “It will distract him when he needs to not be distracted. I’m afraid you’ll have to sit most of these sessions out, Mister Barebone.”  
  
“Just Credence, please,” Credence mutters, ears red. “How are you going to help him get to where he needs to?”  
  
Sera raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to piss him off,” she says and smiles as she walks to the backdoor. She opens it after flicking the light on and steps outside to get a look at what they can work with.  
  
Graves sighs as he looks at Credence. “Sorry, love, but she’s right. Your scent is going to interfere,” he says and smiles as Credence wrinkles his nose. “Because I like it so damn much, Credence.” He leans over the sofa and kisses Credence’s forehead.  
  
“So she’s going to make you angry until you figure out how to hide it from her?” Credence asks and tilts his head up, chasing Graves’ lips.  
  
He kisses him, gently, and pulls away with a hum. “Yes,” he says. “Mostly. She’s strong and she knows me well. When she can’t read me anymore, only what I feed her, I’ll know I have a fighting chance.”  
  
“But he’s a lot older than both of you,” Credence says quietly.  
  
“And we’ll be surrounded by dozens of vampires and their bloodlust,” Graves says. “What he might have picked up on otherwise will be harder to do.”  
  
“I feel like you’re going into this with a lot riding on hope and luck,” Credence says with a frown. “And theory. It could be completely different when you get there.”  
  
“It could,” Graves says. “But it won’t be. He’s predictable. And you’re underestimating the seven hundred years of experience I have if it did happen to be.”  
  
Credence hums and doesn’t look too reassured, but he nods.  
  
Graves walks out into the backyard to join Sera. It’s a large yard, with a nice patio, but he’d filled in the large plot of grass with rock the week he had moved in. There are wide sandstones in the middle and a fire pit instead, something he and Credence have been meaning to use now that the snows have melted.  
  
Sera is sitting in one of the cushioned patio chairs and he takes the other as he looks at her.  
  
“He’ll be staying in New York,” she says, not a question.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Good,” Sera says as she peers at him curiously. “Is he so worth all of this?”  
  
“It’s not just him I’m doing it for. I’m doing it for me and most of our kind that would prefer the old man gone,” Graves says. “But I wouldn’t be, if I didn’t have him. Yes, he’s worth it.”  
  
She frowns. “And yet you’re against turning him.”  
  
“I am,” Graves says firmly.  
  
Sera hums as she gazes at him before she smiles faintly. “One day he’ll be beyond you,” she says. “Either in body or otherwise. One day he’ll be gone. In love with someone else or buried in the ground.”  
  
Graves knows this, knows it well, and he merely gazes at her, because he knows they’ve begun, and she is not concerned with his relationship with Credence.  
  
She smiles again, wider. “Good,” she says. “Shall we go deeper?”  
  
“By all means.”  
  
——  
  
Credence quickly learns that he will not get to participate or help Percy with his weekly _mind strengthening_ sessions and spends the nights that Seraphina comes over in the office upstairs. His thesis has been taking up most of his free time anyway, so he supposes it’s good he’s not distracted.  
  
Or distracting.  
  
He Skypes with his friends to make sure the project is completely ready to be submitted and by the time the first week of May rolls around, they send it in for Professor Abraham to grade.  
  
The beginning of May is spent finishing his thesis and preparing for exams.  
  
Preparing to graduate.  
  
It’s a little frightening when he thinks about it. It seems so long ago that he was accepted to NYU and now he is about to collect a degree in photography, a passion he hadn’t realized he had until six years ago.  
  
The passage of time will always be strange, he supposes, because it feels both like a lifetime ago and only yesterday.  
  
Somedays he finds it hard to believe he hasn’t known Percy forever, but less than a year. But in that time, he has fallen in love and he has moved in with him, and what’s Percy’s is his and vice versa. His life is not at all what he would have expected it to be but it’s… good.  
  
It’s so good that it’s terrifying. Sometimes Credence feels like he’s going to wake up, back in that old, dark house, his adopted mother leaning over him with a belt in hand, and it will have all been a dream. That no good things actually come to him, that they never have, and they never will.  
  
But he keeps waking up at Percy’s side and Percy kisses away the fear, the panic, the doubt, until Credence believes once again that this is real and he deserves it.  
  
Midway through May, he submits his thesis and goes to campus for the next week to take his exams.  
  
The last night, after their final exam has concluded, and they congratulate each other, they go to a bar. It’s packed with college students celebrating and drinking heavily, but Credence and his friends find a table so they might be able to hear each other talk. After tonight, they are no longer students, and they all have so many plans for their careers.  
  
Mina will be photographing the models that wear her brother’s wife’s designs, a guaranteed job, one that will pay well.  
  
Quint has received an offer from a relatively well known magazine to shoot models advertising makeup. He’s always been fascinated by the way makeup can look under the proper light or in shadows, with the right flash, and how differing skin tones change the effects.  
  
Jon has been given numerous offers, arguably the most talented with a larger portfolio, but he hasn’t accepted any yet, waiting until after he passed his exams.  
  
Lucy has an eye for color and will be working for a website that designs bold but comfortable, practical clothing and vibrant makeup, with a focus on all LGBTQ identities.  
  
Credence… Credence isn’t entirely sure what he wants to do. He’s had a few offers himself, but nothing that has really called to him. He wants to put photos he didn’t use in his thesis up in a gallery, as he’s likely to get more offers from that, but he thinks he’d prefer to freelance. His thesis had focused on both short-term and long-term change over fall, winter and spring, whether it was the weather, the landscape, or New Yorkers themselves.  
  
When viewed altogether, it tells a story every New Yorker knows themselves, and yet it is different because it is not their own. It’s a collective story of them all and when he had shown Percy the final product, he knew he had been proud and impressed, before he had even said so Credence.  
  
Professor Abraham had been just as impressed after he evaluated it.  
  
Credence wants to continue this sort of work, street photography, and besides getting a website up, which he works on now and then, he thinks a gallery will help him get hired.  
  
It’s getting a gallery to represent him that might be the hard part, but he has already submitted his portfolio to various ones across the city, in the hopes that one of them might bite.  
  
His friends offer to help in any way they can and Credence thanks them and hopes that they never stray too far from each other. It will be harder to find time together but they don’t swear that they will, they don’t make that promise. They merely have faith in each other that they will make it happen.  
  
They do a celebratory shot together (minus Jon, who never drinks alcohol), but drink slowly after that, too busy talking and laughing and reminiscing over the last four years.  
  
Percy is there as well, but he’s off in the corner, tucked away in a quiet booth with Seraphina, capitalizing on the loud and crowded environment for more of their work.  
  
He’s also Credence’s ride home, but just knowing he’s there, that he’s close, makes him feel warmer than any alcohol could.  
  
When his friends aren’t trying to ruin it anyway.  
  
“Do you know how weird it is that your boyfriend is in a dark corner with a mysterious and beautiful stranger while you’re over here drinking a Mai Tai with us?” Mina asks.  
  
“She’s mysterious and beautiful but also kind of terrifying,” Credence says. “They’re busy anyway.”  
  
“Busy staring into each other’s eyes,” Quint says as he glances over. “Actually, it’s kind of creepy.”  
  
Credence snickers a little. “It’s an intense battle of wills,” he says. “They’re at war, not anything more.”  
  
“Is she actually helping?” Mina asks.  
  
“Yes,” Credence says and takes a sip of his drink. “That’s what Percy says anyway, I can’t exactly test it out myself. He’s getting better at hiding things from her.”  
  
Lucy sighs as she gazes at the corner. “She’s stunning, isn’t she? So poised and graceful,” she says. “She could kill you just by looking at you, but that only makes her more interesting.”  
  
Jon rolls his eyes. “Let’s not take an interest in a second vampire,” he says testily. “You’ve gotten us into enough trouble with just the one.”  
  
“Hey, I’m not the one who decided to fall in love with him,” Lucy says with a grin. “I’d rather be her than fall in love with her. Not the vampire part! If I had that kind of confidence in the way I walked, I could’ve been the model and not the photographer.”  
  
“You’re a bombshell, Luce,” Quint says, laughing. “I know your five-two stature isn’t gonna get you on the catwalk anytime soon, but if you want to be one of my makeup models, just let me know.”  
  
“That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Lucy sighs dreamily.  
  
Credence shakes his head. “Stop staring at her, they always know when someone is,” he says. “That’s what started all of this, remember?”  
  
Lucy sighs again but she looks at Credence and smiles. “Fine, no more staring. Is Percy doing anything for you to celebrate graduation?”  
  
“I told him he didn’t need to,” Credence says. “Except maybe take me to dinner.”  
  
“I would’ve asked for a vacation. Your dude’s loaded,” Mina says. “You could’ve gone to the Bahamas.” She frowns as they raise their eyebrows at her. “No, I suppose not. London?”  
  
Credence laughs. “I think he hates Europe,” he says. “I don’t want him to spend that kind of money on me.”  
  
“Man, let him,” Quint says. “That’s what rich partners are supposed to do.”  
  
“You know how hard Credence makes it to buy him anything,” Jon says and takes a drink from his soda.  
  
Credence smiles. “I enjoy paying for my own things, you know,” he says. “Besides, he’s given me a home with him. That’s enough.”  
  
They smile in return and the conversation moves away from vampires after that. After a few more drinks and a lot of laughs, Credence sees Percy walk Seraphina out of the bar. They’re both likely fed up with how loud it’s getting and when Credence looks at his friends, he sees they are as well.  
  
After finishing their drinks and paying their tabs, they walk out of the bar too and into the cool night, the moon high in the sky.  
  
Percy is leaning against his truck and looks up when they come out. “Alright, who needs a ride?”  
  
“I haven’t been drinking,” Jon says. “I’ll drop off Quint and Mina.”  
  
Percy nods and gets in the truck and Credence is faintly amused, because he suspects it’s for more than just giving them privacy.  
  
They hug each other, a large group hug and individual hugs, and Credence and Quint may cry a little, but it’s taken work to get here, and a lot of growth for all of them, and Mina doesn’t even bother teasing them.  
  
Credence helps Lucy into the truck before he gets in himself and spends most of the ride back home trying to keep Lucy awake so he doesn’t have to carry her to her parent’s doorstep. But in the end she makes it inside alright and so does Credence, with only the occasional aid of Percy’s hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Did it go okay?” Credence asks as he walks to the stairs, because if he sits on the sofa, he doesn’t think he’ll be getting up again.  
  
“Yes,” Percy says, with amusement, as he follows Credence up the stairs. “Did you have a good time?”  
  
“Mhmm,” Credence hums. “It feels so weird though. Knowing I’m not going back to campus, I mean.”  
  
“I imagine,” Percy says as they walk into the bedroom. He tsks and helps Credence out of his shirt when he begins to struggle with it. “I’m proud of you, you know.”  
  
Credence smiles. “Thanks,” he says and gently slumps against Percy’s chest.  
  
Percy laughs and guides him to bed instead and Credence feels his lips on his forehead, but he doesn’t remember much after that.  
  
He wakes late in the morning, with a faint headache, and reaches for Percy, but his side of the bed is empty. Credence cracks an eye open as he looks and sees that there is an envelope on Percy’s pillow.  
  
Credence frowns and grabs it, squinting through the low light of the room, and sees Percy’s handwriting on it, telling him there’s tylenol and water on the night stand if he needs it. With a huff, Credence sits up and takes the pills and drinks half the water bottle, because his throat is dry and he’s fairly sure he’s dehydrated.  
  
He opens the envelope and pulls out a piece of paper, frowning as he looks it over, not quite making sense of what he’s seeing. It’s an official letter from the Department of Education and once Credence realizes he’s looking at his student loans, he feels his heart jump.  
  
It’s a receipt, he supposes, and a declaration of the loan paid back, _for your records,_ it says. The frankly disturbingly large number he’s been trying not to think about has a zero underneath it and Credence gapes for a while down at the paper.  
  
Then he scrambles out of bed, nearly tripping as the sheets are wrapped around his foot, but he breaks loose and opens the bedroom door, hurrying down the stairs.  
  
Percy is in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee, and he glances up when he sees Credence coming down the stairs, brandishing the paper. He smiles.  
  
“Good morning. You want some breakfast?”  
  
“What did you _do?”_ Credence exclaims as he turns into the kitchen.  
  
“I thought it was obvious,” Percy says easily. “Coffee?”  
  
“You— but you— you can’t do this!” Credence says as he shakes the paper. “You can’t just… do you know how much money this is?”  
  
Percy laughs. “I was made aware of the amount, yes.”  
  
“It’s too much!”  
  
“It really isn’t.”  
  
Credence scowls. “Yes, it is,” he says. “You didn’t… I’m not…”  
  
“If you say you’re not _worth it,_ I’m going to buy you a car.”  
  
Credence sighs loudly. “Percy,” he says. “This was so much money.”  
  
Percy shakes his head. “It wasn’t. Well, to you, yes,” he amends as Credence scowls all the more. “But not to me. Anyway, I want you to worry about everything else that comes with getting your career up and running and not the loan that got you there. Worry about upgrading your equipment and not a near car payment every month.”  
  
“But…” Credence trails off and stares helplessly at Percy. “You didn’t have to do this.”  
  
“I know that,” Percy says. “I wanted to. I wanted to give you something more practical than a night out.”  
  
“It was a lot of money though,” Credence says, because it was, whatever Percy has to say about it.  
  
“I know,” Percy says. “You know, back in my day, we didn’t even have college.” He smiles as Credence laughs, unable to help it. “It seems a little outrageous these days to price education as high as they do. So don’t worry about it. Enjoy the rewards from your work instead.”  
  
Credence sighs and bites his lip as he looks down at the paper. He sets it on the kitchen island as he walks around it to Percy and wraps his arms tightly around him, thumping his head against his shoulder. Percy’s arms move around him as well and he kisses Credence’s neck.  
  
“Thank you,” Credence whispers and sniffs, just a little. “It’s too much, but thank you. I love you.”  
  
“I love you too,” Percy says. “You’re welcome.”  
  
“Do I still get a night out?”  
  
Percy chuckles. “Anything for you, love.”  
  
——  
  
As spring steadily melts into summer, Graves marvels at the fact that Credence has continued to choose him.  
  
He’s never been in love like this before. In love, yes, before he was turned and after. But before it was a secret, more passion than something destined to last, and there were a couple after he was turned, at the beginning.  
  
When he was forced to share close quarters with others, when it was easy to bond because they only had each other in a world that would see them burn, but it was still dangerous then.  
  
Not because others like him cared about his attraction to men, but because they were killed so often that you were more likely to lose someone you loved rather than move through the changing world with them. It had happened to him, twice, and he hasn’t let it happen since.  
  
But Credence found him in the modern world and Graves had let his guard down, and now he aches, aches every single day, in the most incredible way.  
  
He would do anything for Credence, even let him go, if he had to, and it scares him sometimes. He doesn’t want to think about the distant future, doesn’t want to let that bother him, not when he can enjoy his time with Credence instead.  
  
And Credence loves him, aches for him the way Graves does, and he doesn’t have to sense it in him, smell it on him, to know it’s true.  
  
Graves watches him start his freelancing career, slow to take off until a gallery accepts his work in Uptown, and after that he has to begin refusing certain jobs, because he’s filled up this calendar year.  
  
He upgrades all of his equipment after the first few paychecks and Graves watches him fondly, watches the passion in his eyes when he tells Graves about how a shoot had gone, watches his joy.  
  
Credence tells him one day, when Graves is hiding away from the hot August sun, that he’s never been this happy.  
  
Graves knows it’s true and he knows it’s not a lie when he tells Credence the same.  
  
But the leaves begin to change near the end of September and a certain tension has been building in the house, one that Graves feels keenly, because it is not just from Credence. They’ve known each other for a year now, but it’s hard to celebrate that, when Credence’s worry is so overwhelming. When Graves’ own thoughts are being consumed by what he plans to do.  
  
He’s confident in his ability to hide himself, to feed others something false, Seraphina has helped him relearn that particular skill, but it’s possible it won’t go the way he wants it to.  
  
Graves might even miss the opportunity, versus anything worse, but he’s longing for the kill, for the blood he’ll spill, for the death of a man he long ago learned not to trust.  
  
Learned to hate, for the things he made Graves do, when he was still able to influence him.  
  
It was why he had come to America in the first place, to escape Europe and take advantage of a new society, make a place for himself where he did not have to look over his shoulder quite so often.  
  
October comes and the days begin to cool. Graves buys a plane ticket to Paris and Credence clings a little tighter.  
  
Graves will leave on the night of the 18th, the Hunter’s Moon on the 20th, so he doesn’t have to spend any longer than he needs to in Paris, but he doesn’t know when he’ll come back. There will be work to tend to if it goes well, but he promises Credence he will come back to him the moment he can.  
  
Credence is busy and Graves suspects he means to be, in the weeks leading up to the 18th, but he stays home the day before and rests his head on Graves’ chest, chasing a heartbeat that’s not there, and Graves doesn’t know how to reassure him anymore than he already has.

He knows that Credence believes in him but his anxiety only gets stronger with each passing day.  
  
“It’ll be fine,” he says quietly as he runs his fingers through Credence’s hair. “I’ll try to be home before Halloween.”  
  
“I hope you are,” Credence says, because he has stopped asking what he’ll do if Graves doesn’t come home. “We’re supposed to watch twelve hours of Halloween that day.”  
  
Graves smiles. “I’ll make it happen,” he says. “Try to stay busy until then.”  
  
Credence leans up and kisses him then and murmurs an _I love you_ against his lips.  
  
He does the same thing the following night at the airport, and Graves looks over his face, painfully beautiful, eyes bright with tears, and commits this moment to memory. This is what he’ll think about, when he’s in Paris, when he needs to be at his best.  
  
Graves smiles then and brushes his thumb over Credence’s cheek before he turns and walks into the airport, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.  
  
New York is behind and France is ahead.  
  
——  
  
Graves has been to Europe quite a few times, in the centuries since he moved to America, but it’s been a few handful of years since he last stepped foot here. And it certainly hadn’t been Paris, which he avoids, because it’s too familiar, in its architecture and people.  
  
He remembers watching it transform over time. Can even remember what it looked like so long ago, in the years before he was turned, and as he stares out of the window of the taxi, passing familiar sights, he sees flashes of his old life.  
  
The farm he lived on once upon a time, outside of the city, such a distant memory, but here, in Paris, it’s easier to picture. Another one of the reasons he’s avoided coming back to France. He doesn’t like to remember the life he had so detested that he chose to become something else.  
  
He stays in a hotel room that night so he doesn’t have to be out in the city, and drinks a fifth of whiskey, but it doesn’t help. Never helps.  
  
Graves calls Credence and tries to tell him the more mundane things about the flight and the nightmare of the airport, but he can hear the worry in Credence’s voice, the way it hitches now and then, in a way he’d never like to hear again. He tries to reassure him, but he knows it’s a futile effort, and Credence won’t be alright until he’s back home.  
  
When the next evening comes, he dresses in a grey three-piece suit, as will be expected of him, and takes another taxi to an old mansion in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, privately owned and familiar to him, the long drive lined with expensive cars already. It’s as perfectly manicured as it's always been and when Graves steps out of the taxi, he looks at the fountains and shrubs and marble statues and shakes his head. Credence’s words come back to him then.  
  
_Is this some weird vampire coven ritual thing?_  
  
It makes Graves smile and he walks to the mansion’s tall, dark doors, where a doorman waits, nodding respectfully to him and allows him entry.  
  
The foyer is sprawling, a crystal chandelier hanging high above, lighting the marble floors and staircases, with thick red carpet draped over their steps. There are more statues here, more plants, large paintings on the wall, and Graves looks around, hating it all.  
  
There are parlours filled with glamorously dressed people, people he recognizes, people who bow their heads at him as he walks through and nabs a glass of champagne. He feels their eyes on him and wonders what they must be thinking, to see him again after so long, to know what they know about him.  
  
It might look like a party for the elite to anyone outside of here, but the stench of them all is cloying, sour in the way that dead blood is, only the occasional whiff of sweetness from the unturned, seduced and brought here to be fed upon or to be turned themselves. He sees them, their youthful faces, frightened but curious, wary but loyal, and wonders what Credence might have to say, if he could speak to them.  
  
He follows the scent he is most familiar with, though it fills him with a certain dread to do so, but he knows it’s expected of him. He knows the game he must play while he’s here and any other time he would find it laughable if it wasn’t boring him to tears.  
  
The den - one of a few - is closed when he approaches it but the man standing in front of it steps aside and opens it for him and he steps over the threshold and into the lion’s den.  
  
There are only two people in the room when he looks at a table near the corner, a place where gentlemen used to smoke cigars and bemoan life, but that holds a different sort of meaning now.  
  
Bookshelves line the walls, filled with old novels and texts, and the marble floors are covered in a variety of animal skins, a chandelier hanging above made of antlers.  
  
Graves finds it all a bit nauseating but he crosses the room and approaches the table, approaches his sire, and hopes that it’s the last time he will do so.  
  
He ignores Grindelwald, who sits at the table, smirking at him.  
  
Silvanus Durand sits at the head of the table and Graves looks him in the eye. The same eyes he’s known for so long, the same eyes he looked into before he asked the question, the same eyes he looked into when he awoke someone - something - new.  
  
He’s a tall man, his hair dark and peppered with grey, clean shaven and with a certain bearing that might remind one of royalty, shoulders squared and posture upright. His eyes are grey and cold and Graves watches as they appraise him, taking in his appearance with a faint air of disapproval, that might make him laugh any other time.  
  
“Sit, Percival,” he says, voice silky, the French lilt softened by time, softened by the lack of spending any time outside of this place, surrounded by people from across the world.

After he’s taken his place on Silvanus’ left side - Silas, these days, to mortals - his sire gazes at him for a long while and Graves doesn’t speak. Won’t give him the honors he’s due, because that is expected of him these days, to be disrespectful.  
  
“You did not bring the boy,” Silvanus says. “Why?”  
  
“The invitation was only addressed to me,” Graves says. “I didn’t see a place to mark a plus one.”  
  
Silvanus smiles, the same sharpness in it he’s always known. “Your reluctance to turn him has reached the far corners of our society,” he says. “I find myself disappointed to hear it.”  
  
“I am so very disappointing these days,” Graves says with a smirk. “What I do with him is my business.”  
  
“Do you think so?” Silvanus asks. “Have you been under the impression that you are unreachable in America?”  
  
“I’ve been under the impression you haven’t cared to reach me,” Graves says. “The prodigious son sits at your right, after all.”  
  
Grindelwald merely smiles in return, but there’s something colder in his gaze, and a knowledge that he’s holding, a knowledge that Graves himself doesn’t have.  
  
There’s more to this invitation than he knows, but he suspected that from the beginning. It still puts him on edge. He’ll be asked to do something tonight, to be something tonight, something he won’t like.  
  
He will make sure it doesn’t matter, in the end.  
  
“And you sit to my left,” Silvanus says gently. “It’s time you took that seriously.”  
  
Graves raises an eyebrow. “I know what the right hand of God symbolizes,” he says and gestures at Grindelwald. “Though you could have picked a better looking pinnacle of strength and ability—”  
  
The slap rings sharp and abrupt in the room and Graves reels back in his chair from the force of it. He hisses from the pain and the primal instinct to defend himself, and he can feel the satisfaction from Grindelwald, smells it on the air, and he would bare his fangs, but the anger that boils inside him is enough.  
  
Graves shakes it off and looks at Silvanus as he feels blood dripping along his cheek, down his neck and onto the collar of his suit. The wounds are thick from sharp claws but they close themselves and he stares at his sire and doesn’t hide what he feels.  
  
“Good,” Silvanus hisses, fangs visible. “Remember what you are. What you’re capable of. Not an insolent disobedient son but a respected member of my court. You will remember this tonight and every night going forward.”  
  
“Oh?” Graves asks through gritted teeth, looking down at his suit. “That’s going to stain,” he mutters and hears Grindelwald titter. “Am I earning a promotion?”  
  
“You are, in fact, Percival,” Grindelwald croons. “A knighthood, of sorts.”  
  
Graves leans back in his chair as he looks at him, then at Silvanus. “Am I training squires?”  
  
Silvanus smiles, like a teacher pleased with his student. “That’s right,” he says. “There are many fledglings these days. They need a leader. Gellert has been doing his duty in creating them but he is busy with the court. You will take his place and teach them strength. _Your_ strength.”  
  
“You want to rise up,” Graves says and laughs. “How does the court feel about that?”  
  
“Most won’t know until tonight, though they have likely come to expect the announcement.”  
  
“It’s reached my ears that you’re turning more than what we allow,” Graves says. “The laws we’re meant to follow are meant to _protect_ us.”  
  
“Laws can be rewritten,” Silvanus says easily and with some amusement. “After tonight, they will be. Tonight you will be named Lord and you will act the part. I will permit you to return to America to finish whatever business you must and collect the boy.”  
  
Graves stares at him. “Collect the boy,” he says dully.  
  
“He gives you strength,” Silvanus says. “He’ll give you more when you turn him.”  
  
The idea that he’s expected to remain in Europe and train an army of vampires and turn Credence into one, to sit by his side, is so absurd that he wants to laugh at it. They aren’t like this anymore, it’s a modern world and there are no such things as vampires, but here they are, speaking of rising up and doing— what?  
  
Putting humans in cages? Creating a world of vampires? He does laugh at the thought.  
  
“Something amusing, Percival?” Grindelwald asks testily, as if insulting their sire is particularly heinous.  
  
Once upon a time, maybe.  
  
“These aren’t the Middle Ages. You’re asking a lot of people who are _very_ comfortable in their lives to turn back time and go back to a baser sense of what we once were,” Graves says. “You’re losing respect doing this, not gaining it.”  
  
“Do you know whose name we hear, uttered with respect?” Silvanus asks. “Percival Graves, Percival Graves,” he whispers, like a crowd’s chant. “Tamed and in love.”  
  
Graves raises an eyebrow. “I think you’ve forgotten what respect sounds like.”  
  
“No,” Grindelwald says. _“You_ have. They want what you have. Most of them,” he amends with a small, icy smile. “Because they’ve forgotten their strength too. They want a life of luxury, of love, of hiding. Who does the hiding protect? Us or them? Playing at a mortal life is beneath your caliber and cannot be an example to follow.”  
  
Graves wants to ask what they’ve been smoking, locked away in the mansion, but it runs deeper than that. It’s sinister, what they propose, and would cause mass bloodshed. They’re serious and the more mortals they turn, the higher chance they have of it actually working, to some degree.  
  
It’s no wonder there’s been dissent and when he thinks about it, those he spoke with, in the months leading up to this, did speak to him with respect. True respect, not just the airs put on to remain in his good graces, but because they wished to tell him these things, they wished for him to come here and do something about it, though none had said it plainly.  
  
He thinks of the way they looked at him, walking through the parlour, their eyes following him as he passed and he thinks it was with more than curiosity.  
  
The fault in the armor is widening.  
  
“An uprising is going to get half of us killed,” Graves says. “You’re fools if you don’t think so.”  
  
“And we will rebuild quickly,” Silvanus says with a smile. “Because they will lose many too.”  
  
Graves grabs the glass of champagne and downs it. “So I’m to come to heel and train these fledglings, who are not mine, by the way, and prepare for this,” he says. “When do you plan on this happening?”  
  
“By the next Hunter’s Moon,” Silvanus says. “You’ll have created plenty of your own by then. Gellert has done well enough work but it’s time you took your place with us.”  
  
“There’s going to be a ceremony tonight,” Graves says flatly.  
  
“Now he’s catching up,” Grindelwald says with amusement. “We haven’t had one in ages. It’s only fitting that your return to Paris includes a ceremony for you.”  
  
“If your ambitions don’t kill you, your dramatics will,” Graves says with a smile. “Do you think watching me kneel to you will quiet the respect they have for me? Turn it back on to you?” he asks Silvanus.  
  
Silvanus chuckles. “Once you tell them what will happen, yes,” he says. “They will ease into it, coming from you.”  
  
Graves feels his nose twitch a little at that. _I’m going to kill you tonight,_ he thinks, as he looks at Silvanus, _I’m going to rip you apart and stand over your corpse as I tell them something different._  
  
He doesn’t let Silvanus feel this. He lets him feel defeat instead, acceptance, and the loss of the life he has built in America.  
  
“Oh, Percival,” Silvanus says as he reaches over, touching Graves’ cheek, where his claws were sunk in not so long ago. “If you had never run, you would not feel such heartbreak. This is why I will allow you to have your mate.”  
  
It takes every bit of willpower Graves has to not turn away from the touch. A touch he remembers, from so long ago, when promises were crooned into his ear, promises of how strong he could be. Promises of vengeance to those that had taken things from him, taken a sister he loved, leaving out all that he would owe in return.  
  
He won’t owe anyone again, he swore that when he crossed the sea so long ago for the first time. He won’t _belong_ to anyone again, forced to do their bidding, unless that person is Credence Barebone.  
  
If his heart still beat, it would beat for Credence. And Graves will do whatever he asks of him, because Credence will never ask for too much, because he will ask out of love and not ownership.  
  
The thought of Credence here, by his side, listening to the absurdity of this, puts a faint smile on his face.  
  
Silvanus is too arrogant to see it as anything other than acquiescence. “Good,” he whispers and stands, Grindelwald standing at his side. He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to Graves. “Clean up and join us in the throne room at eleven.”  
  
“One day soon you will remember the strength you once had, brother,” Grindelwald says and leaves, following his sire out of the den.  
  
“Maybe even tonight,” Graves says, once he is alone, as he leans back in the chair and smiles.  
  
Fortune favors the strong after all.  
  
——  
  
Credence had been sure he would spend the day alone. He didn’t know what to expect, he didn’t know what he might feel, when _it_ might happen.  
  
Percy had told him to expect to feel some things and when he’d asked about the distance, Percy said it didn’t matter. They are connected and no amount of distance will change what they can feel from each other.  
  
He’d been a little put out by that, because if he feels Percy’s demise, he thinks it may actually kill him too. So he’d told himself he would deal with it alone, he would have to, but around noon on the 20th, he had received a text from Percy telling him he was getting ready to go and Credence realized he couldn’t be alone.  
  
Lucy was the first one he’d called, of course, and she had come over immediately. Mina and Quint arrive a little later and Jon sometime after that, congregating in the living room, the TV turned on to the new season of Extreme Engagement that Percy has unfortunately gotten Credence hooked on.  
  
Mina supplies alcohol and after a drink and listening to his friends’ usual banter, he doesn’t feel quite so overwhelmed.  
  
Well, not completely.  
  
There’s a spark of rage in his chest that’s not his own sometime around two in the afternoon that he panics about for a while, but it eventually fades, because Percy’s only been pissed off and not killed.  
  
Credence has another drink after that.  
  
“So is he like… gonna go with a stake through the heart?” Quint asks.  
  
“I don’t think he can carry a wooden stake around a vampire party, Quint,” Mina says dryly. “Unless they’re aiming for campy and I have a feeling they’re not.”  
  
“What else works on vampires?” Jon asks Credence.  
  
“Umm, I think we all saw what else works on them,” Credence says and wipes some sweat off of his forehead as they grimace. “I don’t think he’s going to be tossing holy water onto this guy.”  
  
Lucy hums. “Don’t silver bullets work?”  
  
“That’s werewolves,” Quint says.  
  
“No, I read that if it’s a silver bullet blessed by a priest it’ll work on a vampire,” Lucy says. “Of course, I don’t really see Mister Graves shooting this man either.”  
  
“They could probably smell the silver,” Credence mutters. “He’ll do it with his hands or mouth… or both, I suppose. I’d rather not picture it.”  
  
“None of the others are gonna go ham on him after?” Quint asks.  
  
Credence shakes his head. “No. He said the one that came here, that we saw, might cause him a problem, but he didn’t know for sure. He said they don’t like when the patriarchy is upset and that it doesn’t happen often. He also said that a lot of European vampires aren’t happy with those two.”  
  
“Daddy and big brother?” Mina asks and sips from the bottle of whiskey. “Honestly, I wish we could watch.”  
  
“I think you would regret watching that, Mina,” Jon says tiredly. “And Credence definitely doesn’t want to watch it either.”  
  
“I’m just saying, upsetting the patriarchy is always fun to watch.”  
  
Lucy rolls her eyes. “Maybe we should talk about something else,” she says and pats Credence’s knee, which is bouncing at breakneck speeds. “The party is supposed to go on for another few hours.”  
  
Credence nods and takes in a deep breath to try and calm himself. “I’m never letting him go to one of these again,” he mutters. “Not just for the danger, but he’s really annoyed too.”  
  
“It’s so weird,” Quint mutters. “That you can feel that.”  
  
“He says European vampires are stuck in their old ways. That the party would be at a mansion and everyone would be wearing gold and diamonds and Oscar-worthy attire,” Credence says with a grimace. “He spends half of his days in his boxers and yelling at the TV. I think he’s pretty out of his element.”  
  
“Yeah, but it was his element once upon a time,” Lucy says. “Maybe it’s just like riding a bicycle. He’ll remember how to work a room to his advantage.”  
  
Credence grimaces again, not entirely sure of that, but even if he was, he doesn’t particularly like the sound of that either.  
  
——  
  
No one mentions the blood stained on his collar when Graves rejoins the party.  
  
He kisses the cheeks of many women and speaks with numerous people he hasn’t seen in decades, sometimes longer. It’s an odd feeling, coming across someone he knew before electricity and indoor plumbing and yet they both have so flawlessly blended into the world as it's grown.  
  
He sits in an armchair in a parlour with a few closer to him in age and drinks thirty year old scotch whiskey, letting the familiar burn of it soothe his anger, even if it doesn’t soothe the blood in his veins.  
  
“So wonderful to see you, darling,” Sophie is saying, her raven hair shining in the low light of the room, done up in a tight bun. She’s petite and looks quite a lot like Audrey Hepburn, he thinks, if Hepburn had the cold, narrow eyes of a predator, anyway. “We’ve been hearing so many things about you.”  
  
“Must have been a change,” Graves says with a wry smirk.  
  
“No one talked about you for so long, yes,” Sophie says with a smile. “Like the bogeyman. Oh, not you, darling, but the Master. If we said your name three times, we thought he might appear.”  
  
They all laugh at that, like it’s some grand joke, and Graves takes a sip of his whiskey.  
  
“Of course here you are,” Pierre says. “He’s finally brought you back into the fold. I wonder what it took to convince you to come? A special occasion, perhaps?”  
  
“Maybe,” Graves says with a smile.  
  
“Or something more sinister, perhaps? More threatening?” Sophie asks as she leans closer to him.  
  
Pierre hushes her. “Not the place for such talk, _mon cherie,”_ he says quietly.  
  
Graves looks between them and at the others, who are looking down at their laps or into their drinks.  
  
They don’t want to be involved in that sort of discussion but they aren’t leaving either and Graves relaxes in the armchair, raising his eyebrows.  
  
“Threatening?”  
  
Pierre shoots Sophie a scathing glare as she smirks and raises an eyebrow, leaning even closer.  
  
“It’s no secret there is bad blood between you two,” she says, with a hint of fangs in her grin. “But he’s been so busy lately, rounding up all of Gellert’s little fledglings. We knew it would only be a matter of time before you came home. It has been so long, darling, we thought we’d never see you again.”  
  
“Yet here I am.”  
  
“Here you are,” Sophie says with a heavy but mocking sympathy. _“Without_ the mortal, we’ve noticed.”  
  
Graves shrugs. “He’s busy doing mortal things,” he says. “Working.”  
  
Sophie titters. “Or perhaps he’s busy keeping himself safe from this place,” she says and shrugs. “As he ought to, the state of things.”  
  
“Sophie,” Pierre says warningly. “There is no reason to feel unsafe here.”  
  
“Is there not?” Sophie asks and gone is the amusement, replaced by steel, an inhuman glow in her eyes. “Are there not numerous reasons to feel unsafe here? In Paris? In Europe?”  
  
Graves watches her curiously. She’s angry and bitter, a familiar thing to him, familiar in its stench, in the way he feels it within himself, familiar in who has instilled it in her. And it’s more than her, when he looks at the others, who are gazing back levelly at him, a faint sheen reflected over their own eyes.  
  
They are old, nearly as old as him, some of them, and they’re looking to him for an answer. A better answer than they think they will receive tonight.  
  
He wants to ask. He wants to test their loyalties, see if they would stand by him, support him, but he is an outsider these days, in a den of predators, and he doesn’t trust any of them. Even if they kneeled to him, he would not trust them, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be loyal.  
  
Graves looks at Sophie and she gazes back, testing his own loyalties, but he won’t let her find what she’s looking for.  
  
“Be careful what you say, Sophie,” he says softly. “You never know who might be listening.”  
  
She’s disappointed by the answer but he stands and glances around at the others, who lower their eyes from him. “That goes for all of you,” he says. “Trust no one. Or have you forgotten?” He looks at Sophie. “Trust no one and stay alive a bit longer.”  
  
Graves leaves but he finds, as he makes his way from room to room, ignoring the feedings as he passes them, that when he speaks to most people, they imply much the same thing.  
  
They feel unsafe in their lives.  
  
He himself is being used to try and calm the dissent, to bring them back to heel, to order, to remember their places in the court, going against laws written to protect them. Laws that have not changed even once since he was turned.  
  
Vampires may ebb and flow through time easily enough, but they don’t like change otherwise. They like comfort, the way their human mind did once upon a time.  
  
And they expect him to do something about it.  
  
Graves _is_ glad to see one person.  
  
She’s Juliette Leblanc, a widower to a powerful man of the court, timeless in age and beauty, her blonde hair cascading down her back in thick waves, her green eyes cunning and expressive. She’s older than he is, someone not to be trifled with, and yet she is the only one he feels comfortable enough to relax near.  
  
“The room,” Juliette says quietly when he enters a small lounge and the others quickly leave, bowing their heads at him. “Percival Graves. I often forget how handsome you can be, when you decide to clean up.”  
  
Graves smirks as he watches her stretched languidly on a chaise lounge and moves to sit on the edge of it. “Juliette, my love, you are more stunning every time I see you,” he says. “Where is Hans?”  
  
“He was only the flavor of the month when we came to New York,” Juliette says with a smile as she looks up at him. “You know how easily I bore.”  
  
“I do,” Graves says. “The hearts you’ve broken.”  
  
“They do make the paved path I walk down more interesting,” Juliette says as she sits up and beckons him to sit next to her. “Though I do tend to leave them without a beat, unlike another I know.”  
  
Graves smiles as he sits next to her. “If I knew my love life would be so interesting, I might not have reawoken it,” he says with dry humor. “You would like him.”  
  
Juliette smiles. “I know I would. I’ve always liked the ones you’ve picked, even though it has been so very long since you have,” she says and moves her petite hand to his jaw, turning his head. Her manicured nails brush down his cheek, where he’d been sliced open and she hums. “But others haven’t.”  
  
“He approves of this one,” Graves says, as Juliette looks at the blood on his collar with some sympathy. “He’s been invited to join us.”  
  
“Has he?” Juliette asks and raises her eyebrows. “Do _you_ plan to join us, Percy?”  
  
“What do you know about tonight?”  
  
She shrugs and picks up a glass of champagne off of the low table in front of them. “There will be a ceremony,” she says. “Most expect only an announcement of changes to our laws. But Silvanus will sit on the throne tonight. I can only surmise the ceremony will be in your honor.”  
  
Graves smiles as he watches her. “You may be right,” he says and shrugs as she casts him a baleful look. “Things will change after tonight.”  
  
“Yes,” Juliette agrees with a gentler smile. “I imagine they will. There will be friends and enemies both to make tonight. You are fonder of enemies yourself, so like my husband was. But there is value in friendships, Percy. Perhaps I should say allies, to wipe that look off of your face.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “I do appreciate allies,” he says. “Can I expect allies after this evening?”  
  
“I suppose that depends on how the evening goes,” Juliette says and takes a sip of the champagne as she gazes at him. “To walk the path to the left… no, perhaps not. To walk the middle path…” She raises her eyebrows in consideration. “To walk the middle path gives you an excellent view of who walks at your left and who walks at your right.”  
  
Graves tilts his head back and looks up at the ceiling with a smile. “Will you kneel no matter which path I take?”  
  
“You have my love, Percy, and my knee,” Juliette says as she stands, her flowing white gown shimmering under the low light of the lamps on the walls. She touches his chest, brushing her fingers over his grey suit and his blood. “Silver, in this light,” she whispers. “And crimson. A prelude, I wonder?”  
  
She’s gone then and he watches her go and leans into the chaise with a smile.  
  
A servant out in the foyer calls for guests to enter the throne room and Graves pulls out his phone. He opens his pictures and looks at those of Credence that he himself has gotten the privilege to take over the months.  
  
He’s smiling in most of them, so young, and Graves aches as he looks at him. His smile stretches across his face, eyes half-closed, when he’s smiling in the way he can’t help, sometimes wrinkling his nose. Credence is carefree in these pictures, in Graves’ presence, and it warms him, or perhaps it’s the memory of what that used to feel like, to be warmed by someone.  
  
Graves loves Credence, he feels that in the heart of him, the heart that no longer beats, and he is in Paris because he wants to keep Credence safe. Wants to keep him by his side, protected in more ways than Credence might ever know, if all goes well.  
  
Tonight, Graves will kill the man who turned him and he will become more than he ever has been.

Not because he wants to be, but because he wants to go home, because he wants to hold Credence in his arms and worry less about what that means for them both.  
  
So Graves gets up and he walks through the mansion, following the crowd to the ballroom that has been repurposed into a large, dark throne room. They gather in close quarters, facing the dais at the end of the room, where a throne sits, one fashioned from wood and bone and dark velvet, made a thousand years ago.  
  
It does not look like a king’s throne, perhaps, but kings have sat in it nonetheless. Masters of their court, masters of their coven, masters of vampire-kind.  
  
Grindelwald stands to the right of the throne and Silvanus stands in front of it, watching over his coven, a Master that has lost sight of what that means, a Master that leads them to their deaths, willingly, and they know it.  
  
But they are demure in his presence, their anger simmering beneath the surface, one scent of many, but Graves focuses on it, breathes it in and lets it fuel him to his place, on Silvanus’ left.  
  
Graves looks out at them, at these vampire elites, and sees many looking back at him, with pleas, with anger, with hope. He sees Juliette, a bright jewel in a sea of dark gowns and tuxedos, and she smiles at him, wide and sharp.  
  
“My friends,” Silvanus says, his voice soft, but carrying clearly across the room. “What a momentous time, to have you all here. Together, the way we should be. From those of us that reside where it all began,” he says, bowing, “to those of us who have established homes generations ago, across Europe. For those of us more daring, who have crossed the sea.” He gestures at Graves and smiles as he’s met with quiet chuckles. “I thank you for coming tonight.”  
  
He bows again and they bow back, but some spines bend more easily than others.  
  
“There has been a great change in Europe these last few years,” Silvanus says and his voice is more powerful, steel backing it. “You have felt it, if not seen it.” He smiles. “Some of you would deny the change but you have come here knowing what you will hear. I applaud your courage, your acceptance, your loyalty.  
  
“Those of us in this room who have been lucky to survive a millennia will remember the old desires. The desire to make changes, as we watched our fellows be slaughtered by mortals or those of us who lost their way. We came together, my friends, long ago, because our numbers dwindled. We have stayed together for this long. Our numbers _rise.”_  
  
There’s stillness to the room. No one will move, beyond the mortals who gaze on, terrified, regretting their decision, but not even their fear, the sweetest of scents, is enough to distract a single gaze. They stare at Silvanus, because if they shift, if they betray their discomfort, they will not leave the mansion.  
  
Graves doesn’t have to wonder when he became a symbol of fear, rather than one of a leader. He left for America when he realized it and has been lucky enough to not be called back until now.  
  
His sire can only inspire loyalty in those that crave to be feared, like him, and that’s not their world anymore.  
  
Silvanus must know it. His willingness to leave so many of them dead isn’t only because he can rebuild an army quickly. It’s to weed out the disloyal, the dissenters, those of them that look at him with betrayal.  
  
“We must rise, my friends,” Silvanus says. “We must rise up as our numbers do. Rise up above those who would strike us in the hearts and watch us turn to dust. We must take our place above the _lesser,_ the way we once wanted to, but have forgotten. But there is doubt here, yes, I know,” he says gently. “You wish for security in this rise to power. I will give you security in my son, who once led many of you, so very long ago.”  
  
Silvanus turns to Graves. “Kneel,” he whispers, but it carries across the room like the crack of a whip. There is no kindness in it, no pride, only a threat.  
  
An old man _and_ a fool, far too fond of his own voice.  
  
Graves walks to the steps below the dais and kneels there, staring at his sire’s glossy, shined shoes, and it makes him smile, the modern turn of things, compared to the last time he knelt before him and asked him for the honor of his bite.  
  
There are a few hushed whispers of reverence behind him and he suspects he knows why. It’s confirmed for him, when he sees the blade of a sword lowered in between Silvanus’ legs. It shines silver in the low light of the room and Graves will bathe it in crimson.  
  
It’s older than everyone in the room, passed down through generations of masters, a sword that belonged to one of the first. A sword that’s claimed many mortal lives and bestowed honor on vampires.  
  
“My second son will unite us once more. He will teach you the strength he has learned. He will remind those of you who have already been taught by him. He will create an army large enough to protect us when we rise against our oppressors. I grant and honor him with Lordship today. Would anyone object to this?”  
  
Silence.  
  
Graves closes his eyes and thinks of Credence then. His smile, the way his lips feel under Graves’, the way his hand feels clasped in Graves’ own.  
  
The way he whispered _I love you,_ tears in his eyes, at the airport, fear that he would not see Graves again trembling in his voice.  
  
He feels the sword touch his shoulders but he does not hear the words, the sacred words, once looked upon with respect, but now something that causes unease and a breach of loyalty, of trust, something that breaks oaths and laws.  
  
Graves opens his eyes when the sword is placed between his sire’s feet again. He hears the words then, _rise and take your place at my side,_ and he lifts his gaze, looking up at his sire.  
  
Silvanus stares down at him and Graves watches the coldness melt into anger when he does not rise, and even sweeter after that, fear, because he sees betrayal in Graves’ eyes.  
  
Graves grabs the blade near the hilt, sharpened for the occasion, cutting into his palms, and surges upward, as the hilt of the sword is ripped from Silvanus’ grasp. It slices into him, at the groin and into his bowels, into his abdomen, and Graves stares at him, watches his eyes widen in shock, as he grasps at his stomach, perhaps an attempt to keep his eviscerated insides from spilling forth.  
  
But it doesn’t matter.  
  
Graves drops the sword as a few wails rise up from the coven, of shock and despair, of _relief,_ but he doesn’t hear them. He opens his mouth, jaw stretching, as he grabs his sire’s hair, yanks his head back and plunges his fangs into his neck.  
  
He tears the flesh away, bitten down to the bone, and tastes the sour blood in his mouth, cold and unpleasant, rank with fear. With a jerk of his arm and the crack of bone, Silvanus’ head hits the dais and rolls down to the bottom step.  
  
The wails have ceased and Graves looks up at the high ceiling above, his jaw trembling, but the rest of him still and strong. Stronger now, he can feel, stronger now as he takes a higher place.  
  
Graves turns to face them now, spitting his sire’s blood onto his corpse, and looks at the coven. Dares them to dissent, dares them to disapprove, dares them to question him now.  
  
They don’t. They stare at him the way they stared at Silvanus, their eyes alight with their vampiric glow, and he smells far more pride than he does anger.  
  
Graves turns his head in Grindelwald’s direction.  
  
“If you have something to say to me, now would be the time,” he says quietly, as blood soaks into his waistcoat and shirt, wet and cold against his chest. He looks at Grindelwald when he remains quiet.  
  
Grindelwald is still, staring down at his father’s corpse. And when he looks at Graves, there is coldness in his eyes, in the small smile he grants him.  
  
“No, sire. Nothing,” he whispers, because he will bide his time. He backs down the dais and kneels.  
  
Graves looks at the coven then as he backs to the throne and sits down in it, flexing his fingers as the wounds on his palms heal, and feels the lives of thousands of vampires keenly, in the way he has never before.  
  
They kneel.  
  
——  
  
Credence can feel the build up of tension and it makes him break out into a cold sweat. His own fear is mingled with Percy’s bloodlust, something he’s felt a few times, when he sinks his fangs into him.  
  
It’s stronger now, different, more hateful, and Credence wishes, for once, that the connection wasn’t as powerful as it’s become. He feels like he may faint and he hears his friends talking, saying his name, feels a hand on his face, too warm, too small.  
  
And then he feels something else, a surge of anger and danger, and something different, something powerful, so powerful that it hurts him. It rushes through him, through his veins, into his brain, into his heart, making his fingers and toes ache. It’s raw and horrible and for a moment he thinks Percy may be dead, the connection severed, but then he _feels_ him, like a blooming rose in his chest, the strength Percy carries in the heart of him.  
  
Strength that’s grown immensely, Credence thinks wildly, but he doesn’t know if that’s his imagination.  
  
_“Credence!”_  
  
Credence flinches and blinks as he looks around at Lucy, who is standing in front of him, her eyes wide.  
  
“What?” he asks and realizes he’s breathing heavily and sweat is beading on his forehead.  
  
“You shouted and went white,” Mina says with worry. “What’s going on?”  
  
Credence puts his hands over his face and feels his skin, cold and clammy. He shakes his head as he looks at his friends, who are gaping at him and look as terrified as he felt only a moment ago.  
  
“He did it,” he says weakly, because he knows it’s true. “He killed him.”  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Quint says. “Are you sure?”  
  
Credence nods, his heart still pounding. “Yeah,” he says. “I felt it.”  
  
Jon looks a little queasy. “This is insane,” he says. “You can feel that even when he’s across an ocean?”  
  
“He said the connection we have is only going to get stronger the longer we’re together,” Credence says and shrugs helplessly as Jon gives him a look, to say what he still thinks about that, even after all this time. “I see that as a good thing.”  
  
“Yeah, except when you can feel him murder someone,” Mina mutters. “Not that I’m saying this dude was worth keeping alive,” she adds dryly. “If he was threatening to hurt you.”  
  
“I don’t think anyone will threaten me anymore,” Credence says quietly and with a bit of awe, he knows it’s true.  
  
Quint scoffs. “How can you know that?”  
  
“That’s what he said, for one,” Credence says. “But I feel it. Percy’s stronger.”  
  
Mina wrinkles her nose. “Are you saying he took his place at the top of the food chain?”  
  
“I think so,” Credence says slowly. “I don’t exactly know how they look at things but he’s stronger.”  
  
“If he comes back acting like he’s king of the world, you gotta ditch him, man,” Quint says but he’s smiling.  
  
“Like he doesn’t act like that already,” Jon says sourly. “The last thing Percy needs is an ego boost.”  
  
Lucy shrugs. “I don’t think Mister Graves is going to be any different,” she says softly. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to care much about this.”  
  
Credence coughs a little. “I don’t think so either,” he says, but that’s not completely true. There is a difference in Percy, he can feel it, but he doesn’t think that’ll change the way he lives his life either. “I think… I need another drink.”  
  
Mina sighs and hands him the bottle of whiskey.  
  
——  
  
There are matters that Graves has to tend to, even though he only wants to leave, take a shower and get on a plane back home.  
  
He has rules to establish, his own rules, and laws to remind everyone of. Grindelwald leaves the mansion shortly after Graves has left the throne room and he tells those he knows are loyal to him to keep an eye on him in Austria.  
  
Grindelwald won’t like it, but Graves would love to see him try and do something about it.  
  
Graves orders the mortals home and tells those who have been turning them too quickly that they’ll meet the same fate as Silvanus’ if they keep doing it. Tells them to bring the fledglings to order, to teach them that their laws are to be respected, because they can’t risk exposure.  
  
Whenever he detects betrayal on the air, he gives a different sort of order then, for how the fledglings will be dealt with. But his own dissenters are few and far between. Most of the others are loyal to him now, they respect him for what he’s done, for having the courage to do it. They respect him for the life he leads, as Silvanus had so nicely pointed out. They want it for themselves.  
  
Comfort and safety, to live long lives without the fear of being hunted by mortals or vampires alike.  
  
Graves doesn’t wash away the blood, a bit of posturing, and it works to intimidate the younger ones, the ones who are more hot-headed and think they know better than their elders.  
  
His final order that evening is to those same elders. They have his permission to weed out those that aren’t loyal to him, that whisper too loudly, and they smile at him, pleased to see he’s making this reign his own.  
  
He gives Paris to Juliette.  
  
“Oh, my love,” Juliette sighs and brushes her fingers along his jaw, over the dried blood. “Anything for you.”  
  
Graves can’t leave yet, he has more business in Paris, but he is glad to leave the mansion once he’s gotten cleaned up and changed. He won’t step back into it, he suspects, and it’s a weight off his shoulders, leaving it behind for good.  
  
He showers first, in the hotel, and then he calls Credence.  
  
“Oh my God,” is the answer he gets.  
  
It makes Graves laugh and he feels lighter then, lighter than he has in months.  
  
“Hello to you too,” he says and smiles as he hears Credence’s shaky sigh. “I’m alright, love.”  
  
“Oh, I know,” Credence mutters. “I felt just how alright you were after you sent me into a panic attack.”  
  
“I’m so happy you’re happy I’m alive.”  
  
“I am,” Credence says with another sigh. “You know I am. I was scared I would never hear from you again.”  
  
Graves smiles. “I told you I would come back to you,” he says. “I do have to stay for a few more days.” Credence’s frustrated grunt makes him chuckle. “I’ll be home by the end of the week at the latest.”  
  
“Fine,” Credence says, not happy about it.  
  
“So are you, like, Master Graves now? Master Percival? Just Master?” he hears a familiar voice call in the background before Credence shushes him.  
  
“Oh, good, you’re with the Scooby gang,” Graves says. “I hoped you would be. Tell Quint to shut the fuck up.”  
  
Credence grumbles. “He said no,” he mutters, sounding far away.  
  
“Yeah, that’s definitely not what he said,” Mina’s voice says.  
  
Graves smirks. “Get a bit of privacy, would you?”  
  
Credence mumbles an agreement and after a moment of silence, he sighs. “Okay,” he says after the sound of a door closing. “I never want to go through that again,” he says, quietly now, tearfully.  
  
“I know, love,” Graves says gently. “You won’t. It’s done. But I’m sorry you had to feel it. I would have stopped that if I could. Stay with your friends tonight.”  
  
“We’re at home,” Credence says and sniffs. “I hope that’s okay.”  
  
“Perfectly fine,” Graves says. “When I’m not there anyway.”  
  
Credence chuckles, but it’s still uneasy. “What happened?”  
  
Graves hums and wonders what kind of detail he should give. Not much, he decides, wryly. “I killed him,” he says. “And took his place.”  
  
“What about Grindelwald? He didn’t try anything?”  
  
“He wouldn’t have because he values his life,” Graves says as he lays down on the bed and looks at the ceiling. “I’m going to keep an ear out for what he does over the next few years. It’ll take him a long time before he feels comfortable becoming a nuisance again.”  
  
“I’m only going to get a few years’ break?”  
  
“Well,” Graves says with a chuckle. “Maybe more than that. It took me a long time and a certain motivation to do this myself.”  
  
Credence hums. “I get the feeling he’s got the motivation he needs already.”  
  
“You’re right,” Graves says. “But he won’t do anything about it for a long, long time. I don’t want you to worry about that.”  
  
“Are you saying it might not be for such a long time that I’m going to be old or dead?”  
  
“I didn’t know how to put it delicately.”  
  
Credence laughs. “Alright,” he says. “I’m trusting you on that, you know.” He sighs, more longingly. “Come home soon.”  
  
“I will,” Graves promises. “I’ll let you know when I buy the ticket. Try to spend time with your friends, when you’re not working. Keep yourself busy.”  
  
“Call me, okay? Every day,” Credence says. “I need a little peace of mind right now.”  
  
“Already planned on it, love,” Graves says with a smile. “Go relax.”  
  
Credence snorts. “Maybe after a few days I will,” he says. “But I’ll try. I love you.”  
  
“I love you too,” Graves says. “Good night, sweetheart.”  
  
“Good night,” Credence says softly and Graves feels his twinge of pain, when he hangs up the phone.  
  
He sighs. “Soon, Credence, soon.”  
  
——  
  
Graves has ample experience being in a position of authority. It started after Silvanus turned him and continued for a while after that, when he was more ambitious and took advantage of the way America was being shaped.  
  
He had to build his fortune somehow and creating and running businesses was the logical route to do so. Of course ventures had to change often when the world became more reliant on actual recordkeeping and at some point he couldn’t be the face of anything anymore, merely because people would notice that his face never changed.  
  
His knowledge of the stock exchange helps but now he’s got people that handle that for him too.  
  
So it’s been a while since he sat on the proverbial throne - and now a literal one - but it comes back to him easily enough, once he gets into the groove of it. Modern times of leading vampires call for modern measures and he’s a little amused that it feels like running a business, managing supervisors and employees, and ensuring a product is marketable.  
  
And if it’s not, disposing of it and finding something to replace it.  
  
Of course, the products are vampires but he finds them as easy to dictate as anything else.  
  
Graves chooses a handful of people to help him keep Europe running smoothly, but he still keeps them at an arm’s length, because this is new and they will be circling each other for a while before trust is built between them.  
  
He’d never desired it before but it’s necessary now.  
  
Juliette helps in that regard, close to many in the way he isn’t, close with those she deems worthy and closer still to whoever she considers an enemy. Graves knows their ideas of an enemy are drastically different - his enemies want to kill him, while her enemies are social circles she doesn’t particularly like - but she is a valuable ally.  
  
She’s been in Paris her entire life and he’s known her since before he was turned. She was someone he feared once upon a time, when he was following at Silvanus’ heels, before he asked him to turn him. Juliette is graceful and always poised, never shaken by anything, a demanding presence, but he remembers the look in her eyes, when Silvanus told her Graves would become his child, and become his third in command.  
  
It had been sympathy and something that bordered on pity and he was angry at her at the time for it, because he had thought she looked down upon him. That she had thought he was unworthy.  
  
Three hundred years later, when he had long learned who she was at the heart of her, and he was reeling from the life he was leading and planning to get on a boat and escape it, he had asked her then, why she looked at him in that way.  
  
_“Because you were a lost boy and you had thought you found a new family. An answer to the family you lost,”_ she had said as she touched his jaw and looked at him with soft, green eyes. _“And I knew your heart, Percival, before I knew you. You weren’t what he was going to make you and I knew one day you would realize it. I knew it would break your heart one day.”_  
  
Graves knows she’s one of the reasons that Silvanus hadn’t bothered with him for so long. She could sway him with a mere smile, keep him focused on Grindelwald, remind him of the disappointment of Percival Graves.  
  
One of few allies, perhaps even a friend, though they rarely see each other or speak. He has stayed out of Paris and her trips to New York are few and far between.  
  
Now Graves must trust her completely and wholly with this old city and it’s not a thought that makes him uncomfortable.  
  
When he is reasonably assured he has covered his bases, that he has the right contacts and people in place, he buys a plane ticket to New York, to get back home on the 27th.  
  
He misses Credence in such a startlingly strong way, a constant ache within his chest, and he never strays far from his mind. He hasn’t, in over a year, and Graves is becoming more comfortable with it, less afraid of what it means. Of the vulnerability of love, of giving his heart to someone else, of being given the honor of Credence’s heart in return.  
  
Graves does talk to him every day and tells him what he’s doing, which always makes Credence laugh, the mundaneness of it, and sound a little nervous at the same time, from the position Graves is in now.  
  
But that’s why he has people now. Because he’s going to go home and watch Extreme Engagement and eat pizza with Credence and his unfortunate friends and not let this affect his life anymore than it needs to. Maybe one day he’ll be dragged back to Europe for the occasional flashy party to remind people that he has both eyes on them, but that won’t be something that occurs often, if he can help it.  
  
He tells Juliette when he’s leaving and she offers to take him to the airport.  
  
Graves walks out of the hotel early in the morning, the sun not yet risen, and looks at the sleek grey sedan waiting for him. He climbs into the back with Juliette, dressed resplendently again, in a white pantsuit, pearls around her neck, and her chauffeur drives after a word from her.  
  
“When the _routine_ has been established,” Juliette says with a slow smile, “I must come to New York and meet him.”  
  
He chuckles at the thought of Credence meeting Juliette Leblanc. “You’re welcome anytime,” he says as he smiles. “No flavor of the month though.”  
  
Juliette shrugs, as if that is easy enough. “He must be quite remarkable, that you would do this for him.”  
  
“Not just for him,” Graves says and smiles ruefully when she only raises her eyebrows. “I suppose mostly for him. He _is_ remarkable.”  
  
“Tell me how you met him.”  
  
Graves laughs again. “In the most unremarkable of ways,” he says with genuine amusement.  
  
And he tells her. Tells her how Credence had come to his home, to try and talk his friends out of harassing him, and found a real vampire instead. She laughs, musically, and smiles at him as he tells her how they arrived from that moment to the moment they’re at now. He shows her a picture of Credence and she coos with delight.  
  
“Beautiful,” she says. “Fit enough for you.”  
  
“I only wish he didn’t come with four others.”  
  
“He’s young yet,” Juliette says with a chuckle. “Perhaps he’ll outgrow them. Or perhaps they’ll grow on you. Ah,” she adds with a smile. “Perhaps they already have.”  
  
Graves shrugs. “Like parasites, maybe,” he says, but he’s smiling. “But they make him happy.”  
  
“Such a novel thing, isn’t it?” she asks, as her chauffeur drives them into Roissy. “Only wanting someone’s happiness and nothing more.”  
  
“It is,” he agrees. “Frightening too.”  
  
Juliette hums and traces the line of his jaw with her finger. “Yes,” she says softly. “Don’t let it break you, Percy. We never truly recover from their loss.”  
  
Graves takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “Which is why I’m going to enjoy today,” he says and winks. “Call me if there are any issues and when you get to New York.”  
  
“I will, my love,” Juliette says with a smile. _“Bien boire.”_  
  
_“Bien boire,”_ Graves chuckles and kisses her cheek. He gets out of the car and takes his duffel bag from the chauffeur. Once he has watched the car disappear into traffic, he walks into the airport.  
  
France is behind and New York is ahead.  
  
——  
  
Graves manages to survive the flight home despite a baby two rows behind him screaming the entire way there. Credence had given him his AirPods, a delightful little invention, and he manages to drown out everything else as he thinks of everything that has transpired.  
  
He knows he tied up all the loose ends, but it’s a responsibility he never dreamed of having - not in his worst nightmare anyway - and he worries that he’s forgotten something.  
  
But those that he’s chosen to aid him will do just that and he trusts Juliette to keep their loyalty to him strong, when he isn’t doing so himself. It’ll mean a lot of phone calls, more than he’s ever had to make, but it’s a small price to pay for a worry-free life.  
  
Graves walks through JFK after he gets off the plane, out of the suffocating stench of bodies crammed too tightly together for too long, and looks at crowds. They are distinctly different, though most people might not see it.  
  
Most people here are American and he finds it somewhat amusing to feel much more at home with them, far more than he had felt in the place he had been born.  
  
He leaves the terminal and sees Credence waiting for him. He looks pale and nervous and Graves aches for him, but when he catches sight of Graves, he lights up, with joy and relief and love, and it might have knocked his feet out from under him once upon a time.  
  
His knees still feel a little wobbly but he approaches Credence and drops his duffel bag and laughs as Credence flings himself at him. Credence has an inch on him but he’s light as a feather as Graves lifts him off his feet and kisses him. The sweetness of him is nearly intoxicating, as fresh as it had been the day he first kissed him, on his tongue and running through his veins.  
  
Credence kisses back, his hands moving over Graves’ shoulders and back and up through his hair. He laughs as he pulls back to breathe and Graves sets him down, looking at his bright smile and thinking he really won’t ever recover from Credence Barebone.  
  
But he’s going to enjoy him for as long as he has him.  
  
“Let’s go home,” Graves says as he cups Credence’s cheek.  
  
“Please,” Credence says breathlessly. “And let’s not leave it for a week.”  
  
“Weren’t you invited to a party in four days?” Graves says as he picks up his duffel bag and takes Credence’s hand, walking with him toward the parking garages.  
  
Credence huffs a little and Graves doesn’t miss him swiping at his cheeks. “I don’t think I want to go,” he says. “Because you said you’d watch twelve hours of Halloween with me.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “I did,” he says. “And I’d like to. I just don’t want you to miss out on a party with your friends.”  
  
“I think we’re all a little wary after last year’s party, but they’ll be okay without me,” Credence says as he squeezes Graves’ hand. “And besides, they spent every night with me while you were gone.”  
  
Graves grimaces. “That’s not going to leave the house for weeks.”  
  
Credence laughs and shakes his head. “They kept me from going crazy, you know.”  
  
“I’m glad for that,” Graves says as they take an escalator downstairs. “You look beautiful, by the way.”  
  
“I look like I haven’t slept in a week,” Credence mutters, cheeks pink. “But thank you. You look…” He frowns. “Rejuvenated.”  
  
“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Graves laughs. “Ah,” he says, when he catches Credence’s dubious eye. “I assure you I have not had a meal since I last shared one with you.” He smirks. “Paris did me well in a different way.”  
  
Credence bites his lip as they walk toward the garage he parked in. “It’s weird,” he says quietly. “Knowing you’re responsible for what you are now. I know you said you can manage it from home, but…”  
  
“It’s a modern world, Credence,” Graves says. “We have smart phones and computers these days. I assure you a televideo conference is all that will be interrupting my days anytime soon.”  
  
“I’d like to listen to that sort of call,” Credence says. “Vampire management.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “It’s very likely to be boring and filled with far too much catty commentary.”  
  
“You all are very theatrical and rude.”  
  
“You wouldn’t like me any other way.”  
  
“I suppose not. Can we get breakfast on the way home?”  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
Graves drives them out of the airport and down the interstate, far more used to bullying his way in and out of it than Credence, and they get McDonald’s on the way into Manhattan.  
  
He looks at Credence now and then as he drives. He stares out of the passenger window the same way he has since he met him and Graves smiles and looks at the road and wonders if Credence has ever thought about marriage.  
  
They get home and Graves mourns the state of it when he walks inside. It’s as neat as ever, nothing particularly out of place, but Credence’s scent has been tossed all around with his friends’ and it’s harder to pinpoint. He hears Credence burst into a fit of laughter and frowns as he looks at him.  
  
“Is it that bad?” Credence asks with a grin. “Maybe we should go upstairs?”  
  
Graves scoffs. “For a shower, I hope you mean.”  
  
“You do smell like a plane,” Credence says. “Shower and nap?”  
  
“With a little side of you,” Graves says with a smirk. “Perfect.”  
  
Credence shakes his head and walks upstairs ahead of Graves. He takes a moment to observe his home, the familiarity of it, the comfort of it. It’s not much different than a year ago, but the pictures on the walls have been replaced with Credence’s own, in frames of his choosing, and the thick blanket folded on the edge of the sofa belongs to him. His sandals are near the entryway and some of his camera equipment is near the garage.  
  
It’s not much, but it’s Credence, and it’s _home,_ mansions and marble floors and Van Gogh’s in golden frames left far behind.  
  
Graves tosses his duffel bag into the laundry room and follows Credence upstairs. He’s in the master bathroom and when Graves walks in, he smiles to see Credence hopping out of his jeans, the shower running already.  
  
“Joining me?”  
  
“Of course,” Credence says. “You always like it in the shower.”  
  
That’s enough to get Graves going, because he knows what Credence means, knows it’s true, and he sighs gently. “You better set a timer,” he mutters as he pulls his shirt off.  
  
“Not going to keep your head?” Credence asks cheekily as he drops his boxers and gets into the shower.  
  
Graves watches him as he pulls the rest of his clothes off. He’s so damn beautiful and he’ll never see it, Graves knows, but he supposes that means it’s up to him to keep telling Credence he is.  
  
He steps into the shower and washes the travel grime off, Credence not particularly helping at all as he traces his fingers along Graves’ chest and stomach, further down, until Graves catches his wrist. He pulls it to his mouth and bites gently against his veins, not breaking the skin. Credence’s eyes darken as he watches and Graves pulls back and turns the shower on a little hotter.  
  
He sits on the ground and spreads his legs, beckoning Credence to join him.  
  
Credence does with a smile, sitting down and pressing his back to Graves’ chest. Graves wraps his arms around him and Credence gently holds on to them, tilting his head to the right and back against Graves’ shoulder. Offering himself up.  
  
Graves leans in and breathes him in. Just Credence, just the smell of his soap and aftershave, of the sweet blood that pulses through his neck, and it might have only been a week, but it feels like far longer than that, since he last got a taste.  
  
He presses his fangs gently against Credence’s skin, hears the hitch in his breath, feels his body tighten in anticipation. He kisses him instead and chuckles as Credence huffs at the tease.  
  
Graves kisses along his shoulder and neck until Credence is relaxed again, pliant in his arms, and when he groans softly, Graves pushes his fangs in. Credence hisses at the shock of pain, which is quickly overpowered by the fog of pleasure and grips Graves’ thigh, nails digging into his skin.  
  
With Credence’s blood in his mouth for the first time in over a week, Graves has a difficult time thinking of anything else. He drinks greedily, letting this taste remove the memories of a different one, and groans when he hears Credence gasp his name.  
  
“Percy,” he whines again. “Please.”  
  
Graves is reluctant to pull his fangs out but he does and licks the wound until it closes. He presses open mouthed kisses over Credence’s soft, pale skin, so he can look at the blood he smears against him, crimson on ivory.  
  
“I want you in me,” Graves whispers into Credence’s ear. “When we’re done in here. Let me get more so I’m not tempted to while you fuck me.”  
  
Credence laughs breathlessly. “I can get on board with that,” he says and gasps when Graves bites him again. _“Fuck,_ it feels like the first time.”  
  
Graves is glad to hear they’re of the same mind. He drinks more and teases Credence now and then, brushing his hand along his hip and crotch, until Credence begins to curse at him in earnest.  
  
He laughs as he pulls back and licks the blood from his lips. He sucks at the wound once more before he closes it.  
  
Credence is a little unsteady when he stands but it’s not from blood loss and he rolls his eyes when he catches Graves smirking at him.  
  
“Wash your mouth out when you’re done, I want to kiss you,” Credence says as he gives his hair a quick rinse before getting out of the shower.  
  
“Still don’t like it?”  
  
“It’s like sucking on a mouthful of pennies, of course I don’t like it.”  
  
“Too bad,” Graves says. “You’re a true delicacy.”  
  
Credence hums in amusement as he towels himself off and disappears into the bedroom.  
  
Graves finishes his own shower and dries off, wrapping the towel around his waist. He brushes his teeth and rinses with mouthwash, just in case Credence might claim he can still taste the blood, which has interrupted them a good handful of times over the last few months.  
  
He walks into the bedroom and smiles at Credence. He’s waiting on the bed, bottle of lube in hand and a few towels at the ready, unabashed in a way he wouldn’t have been not so very long ago.  
  
Graves kisses him and takes off the towel before he lays down next to him, on his back, and puts his hands behind his head, spreading his legs invitingly.  
  
“Slow,” he says. “I’ve had a very trying week.”  
  
Credence shakes his head, smiling and kneels between Graves’ legs. He pushes one leg up from under the knee, until Graves holds it up himself, and uncaps the lube.  
  
The first touch is cool but it’s a coolness Graves likes and he watches as Credence takes his time, lazy and languid in the way he opens him up. After he’s pleased with the stretch, he strokes in and out, curling his fingers now and then, until Graves begins to sweat, his head tipped back against his pillow.  
  
He moans as Credence massages his prostate, his cock heavy and full on his abdomen, beginning to leak. “That’s it,” he whispers. “Could get me off like that alone.”  
  
“I will soon,” Credence says. “But I want to feel you.”  
  
Graves chuckles, a bit hoarsely, and licks his lips. “Then feel me,” he says. “Get up here.”  
  
Credence smiles and gently pulls his fingers out, wiping them on a towel and tossing it off the bed. He lubes himself up, a sight Graves is always keen to watch, and presses gently against him.  
  
Graves hooks his ankles behind Credence’s thighs as he pushes in and hisses, not in pain, but in bliss, because Credence is so warm, searing him inside, a particular sensation only those like him can feel.  
  
“Shit,” Credence whispers as he slides in, his arms trembling already, his brow knitted together. “Why is it so easy with you?” he gasps, as Graves tugs him closer, pulling him in deeper.  
  
“Not scared of any pain, am I,” Graves says and smirks through the heat, grasping Credence’s arms to steady them.  
  
Credence frowns. “I think it’s your vast amount of experience, actually,” he says and leans in, biting Graves’ lower lip.  
  
When he lets go, Graves laughs. “Fuck me already.”  
  
Credence does, though it’s slow, at first, a gentle slide out and in, so he can kiss Graves the way he wants to. Graves tangles his fingers in Credence’s hair, groaning whenever Credence rolls his hips in a particular way. They break apart to breathe and Credence sucks bruises on his neck and shoulder as he steadily picks up the pace.  
  
_“Fuck,”_ Graves whispers when Credence bites him, that jolt of pleasure shooting straight into his cock. He moves his ankles further up, over Credence’s hips. “Harder.”  
  
When Credence’s hips begin to snap against him, Graves reaches back and presses his hand firmly on the headboard. He watches Credence, the pleasure on his face, the way he bites his lip before a moan is knocked out of him.  
  
“Beautiful,” Graves whispers, breath hitched. He reaches down and takes his cock in hand, gasping when Credence hits him just right. “Right there, sweetheart.”  
  
“Percy,” Credence says, shaky around the edges. The sound of Graves’ hand moving over his cock makes Credence moan and he fucks Graves in earnest then, the bed creaking beneath them.  
  
Graves tips his head back and grunts as his abdomen tightens as he strokes himself and it’s Credence’s soft command to come that pushes him over the edge. He groans through it, looking at Credence as warmth falls across his stomach and over his hand, watches the way Credence’s mouth falls open as he spasms around his cock.  
  
Credence shudders and gasps once, twice, before his hips stutter and he buries himself deep, a broken moan escaping him as he comes. He’s stunning when he comes, and Graves drinks him in, the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheek, his lips rosy and full.  
  
_“Percy,”_ he gasps on the end and it’s more broken than his moan, filled with longing but something else, something more heartbreaking.  
  
“I’m here, love,” Graves says and wraps his arms around Credence, pulling him against his chest, because Credence’s arms are shaking too badly to keep himself up. “I’m here,” he whispers as they breathe deeply together. “I’m not going anywhere, Credence.”  
  
Credence shivers, burying his face against Graves’ neck, pressing gentle kisses against it before he simply rests there, breathing warm and damp on Graves’ heated skin.  
  
“Sorry,” he whispers thickly.  
  
“Don’t you ever apologize to me for that,” Graves says and kisses Credence’s shoulder, moving his hand up and through his damp hair. He gently tugs on it, until Credence pulls back to look at him, and his eyes are bright and red-rimmed.  
  
Graves brushes his thumb under Credence’s eye, when a tear falls. “I’m not leaving, Credence.”  
  
Credence sniffs and looks mildly embarrassed. “I know,” he says softly, eyes darting away. “I just… I don’t know. I love you, Percy.”  
  
“I love you too,” Graves chuckles and leans in to press a gentle kiss to Credence’s lips. “Let’s clean up so I can hold you better than this.”  
  
Credence huffs a little, as if frustrated with himself, but he nods and carefully pulls out. They use the remaining towels to clean up and once they have, Graves gets under the sheets and comforter with Credence. He presses his chest to Credence’s back and slings an arm over him, resting his hand over Credence’s heart.  
  
“I’m yours, Credence,” he says and kisses the back of his neck. “As long as you’ll have me.”  
  
“And I’m yours,” Credence says with another sniff.  
  
Graves nuzzles gently against his back before he relaxes. He listens to Credence breathe, steadily becoming slower and deeper, until he’s asleep. Graves listens for a while longer, hears his heartbeat and the blood flowing through his veins.  
  
A symphony, of sorts, and Graves lets himself drift off to that unique serenade.  
  
——  
  
They spend the next few days together. Credence had the forethought to take some time off and is glad for it, because he clings to Percy and Percy doesn’t seem to mind, just smiles and kisses him.  
  
Credence won’t admit it, but he’s afraid that Percy’s new responsibilities will drag him away someday. He doesn’t seem to think so, always so confident, and he’s been right about everything so far. Credence suspects it’s his own insecurities, the fear of being abandoned that he’s still trying to shake, seven years down the road.  
  
Halloween day is spent eating junk food and watching various classic movies throughout the day, though Percy ruins _Dracula Untold_ by snickering through most of it.  
  
Kids start coming by in the evening and Percy lets Credence handle giving out candy, which he thoroughly enjoys, because he loves Halloween and he hasn’t done this yet. It makes him feel like he belongs here even more than he already has and seeing children genuinely excited and beaming with pride in their costumes makes him ache for what he was never allowed.  
  
The crowd steadily trickles down and by half past eight, the doorbell only rings one more time.  
  
A couple hours later, during _The Ring_ and as they’re sharing a bowl of popcorn, the doorbell rings again. Credence glances at Percy, who raises an eyebrow.  
  
“I wonder who that can be,” he says dryly.  
  
“They’re supposed to be at the party,” Credence says as he stands and walks down the foyer to the front door. He opens it and groans.  
  
“Ve vant to suck your blood!”  
  
“Oh my God,” Credence says as he looks between his friends, all dressed as very stereotypical vampires and shakes his head, pressing his hands against his cheeks. “Even you, Jon?”  
  
Jon doesn’t look very happy about it either and the dark circles under his eyes might not even be makeup. “I was heavily outnumbered, bud.”  
  
“The makeup looks good, at least,” Credence says as he leans in the doorway.  
  
Lucy grins, the fangs in her mouth clearly fake, and she winces as she pulls them out. “These things suck. Well, not literally,” she says. “But thank you. We thought you’d still like to get some pictures with us.”  
  
“I’m not exactly in costume,” Credence says and smiles. “Why’d you leave the party so early?”  
  
They shrug and Mina sighs when no one else answers. “Just isn’t the same without you,” she says. “Are you going to let us in?”  
  
Credence groans again. “Fine,” he says and steps aside. “But you’re ruining _The Ring.”_  
  
“That movie is a thousand years old,” Quint says as he adjusts his cape and walks inside. “Here.” He hands Credence a few items.  
  
There’s a fake wooden stake, a bottle of holy water, loudly proclaiming itself to be so, and a ring of garlic. Credence shakes his head helplessly and follows his friends into the dark living room. Percy has the movie paused and he looks over the sofa at them.  
  
Percy raises his eyebrows before he laughs, rubbing his fingers against his eyes and shaking his head. “Hilarious,” he says once he looks at them again. “Get out of my house.”  
  
“We’re gonna use the backyard to get some photos,” Mina says with an unabashed grin.  
  
“Of course you are,” Percy says and looks at Credence, raising an eyebrow at the props in his hands. “Vampire hunter?”  
  
“Apparently,” Credence says flatly. “Though we know these don’t actually work.”  
  
“Yeah, but no one else does,” Quint says and heads for the backdoor. “Bring your tripod.”  
  
Credence shakes his head as his friends wander out into the backyard and looks at Percy with a sigh. “They’re idiots.”  
  
“They are,” Percy agrees with a smile. “Sweet that they missed you though.”  
  
“That’s just an excuse to come over and harass you,” Credence says, though he knows that’s not completely true and smiles, unable to help it. “I’ll make them leave soon.”  
  
Credence grabs his camera and tripod and joins his friends in the backyard as they argue over where to take pictures. They always do, every Halloween, together in their costumes, and Credence’s heart feels a little warmer, a little fuller, to know they still want to include him in them. It’s only soured a bit when they make him wear the ring of garlic.  
  
They pose for numerous different photos and Credence suspects he will frame a few of them, even if Percy makes fun of him for doing it. After they’re done, they spend more time outside, talking and laughing, and Credence is glad for it.  
  
They’ve stuck by him, the way Percy said they would, and he suspects they’ll always be together in some way, even if life takes them in different directions someday. It’s something he never thought he would have. His people, his tribe, and though he doesn’t like to remember his childhood, he never would have met Jon and become interested in photography without it. He doesn’t want to think of where he might be if it had never happened.  
  
Credence expects them to leave when they go back inside, but they don’t, making themselves at home with Percy’s alcohol and in the living room, and Percy doesn’t look annoyed, which is a change from just a few months ago.  
  
He looks like he’s finally accepted his fate, and it makes Credence laugh, and he sits next to him on the sofa and leans into his chest as he starts the movie again.  
  
“Were capes ever a thing?” Mina asks after a while.  
  
“No,” Percy says with a smirk. “The entire point was always to blend in.”  
  
“What about the color black?”  
  
“Yes. Again, to blend in, but with the night.”  
  
Jon grimaces. “Can’t imagine why you would want to do that.”  
  
“Bleeding someone in broad daylight _is_ frowned upon in most societies.”  
  
Lucy smiles. “Tell us about Paris,” she says. “Maybe not killing your dad, but the rest of it. What’s a real vampire party like? What’s _Paris_ like?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m pretty interested to know that too,” Mina says with a grin.  
  
“Same,” Quint says. “Do you have fountains of blood to refill your goblets from?”  
  
Percy sighs and, for once, shares a commiserating look with Jon.  
  
Credence merely smiles and thinks that he can’t possibly get any happier than this.  
  
——  
  
The end of the first week of November is a weekend and Graves tells Credence he wants to take him on a weekend trip that Friday.  
  
Credence readily agrees, will always readily agree, and doesn’t even bother asking where, when Graves tells him to bring his camera.  
  
Graves packs up the truck with the essentials and they leave around noon. It’s a decent enough drive that they stop for lunch and gas halfway through, but Credence catches on when they hit the 44.  
  
He smiles at Graves and Graves squeezes his thigh, keeping his hand there when Credence gently clasps it.  
  
The drive into Cherry Springs is a beautiful one and the mountain air is crisp, fresh and cold. There are winter wildflowers in bloom and they pass lakes occasionally, as they drive higher up the mountain. Stargazing areas are flatter than everywhere else, larger fields, but Graves drives past where most people are. It’s easy for him to determine where clearings are through the pine trees and after a bit of a bumpy ride, he finds a large one.  
  
It’s evening now and the sun is beginning to set. Graves sets up the bed of the truck like he had not so very long ago as Credence eats a sandwich and looks around the trees, listens to the birds sing their evening songs. Graves has a hard time not looking at him, the contentment on his face infectious, and wishes he could feel his heart leap, the way he knows it would have once upon a time ago.  
  
They sit in the bed of the truck as the sky darkens from oranges to purples and deep blues, and await the stars.  
  
They grow brighter as it gets later, closer, twinkling in various shades of color. The North Star is particularly bright and Credence takes a few pictures. The moon is a waning crescent and its lack of light only makes the view better.  
  
It’s the Milky Way, visible to the naked eye, that’s the most breathtaking sight for both of them. Graves has seen the night sky like this, in many different places around the world, but it’s rarer now, with city lights and pollution, and he looks at Credence, who he thinks has never seen anything like it before.  
  
The meteor shower is fairly powerful this year, a few shooting overhead every five minutes or so, and Graves watches them, but he finds a different view to be just as breathtaking. Credence is heartbreakingly beautiful like this, with a small smile on his lips and awe in his eyes.  
  
He is staring, enraptured, occasionally taking pictures. “Amazing,” he breathes. “I didn’t know this was only five hours away.”  
  
“We’ll have to come up more often,” Graves says with a smile.  
  
“Yes, please,” Credence says as he glances at Graves with a grin.  
  
They climb into the sleeping bags and under the blankets when it begins to get too cold but Credence doesn’t turn on the heat lamp yet. He squeezes Graves’ hand, the stars bright in his eyes, as he gazes at the sky.  
  
“I love the city,” Credence says after a while. “I love everything about it. The skyscrapers, the people, the food. Central Park. But there’s something about being out here that feels right too.”  
  
Graves smiles. He prefers the city himself, even though he lives in a suburb just outside of it, but he finds that when he’s with Credence, he doesn’t mind nature the way he used to. He hated it at some point, working in fields. It’s what drove him away from the countryside and into Paris, it’s what had pushed him into the life he’s led.  
  
“Maybe we can get a summer home in the mountains,” he says. “Get a different view now and then.”  
  
“I like the sound of that,” Credence says. “Thank you, Percy.”  
  
“Mhmm.”  
  
“For everything,” Credence says softly. “Thank you.”  
  
Graves looks at Credence and smiles. “Anything for you, love,” he says and sits up so he can kiss Credence properly.  
  
Credence’s arms move around his neck and they stay like that, gentle and sweet, until Graves pulls back, just a little, and looks at Credence. His smile is even sweeter.  
  
“Love you,” Credence whispers.  
  
“Love you too,” Graves says and kisses his forehead.  
  
He lays down again and looks at the stars.  
  
One day, he knows, he will do this alone. One day things will be different, because this is merely a blink in time for him, and it’s a thought that makes his breath stutter in his throat and a sting form at the back of his eyes. Things to marvel at all on their own, so long since he last felt anything like them.  
  
Credence has changed him and for the better, he knows. It’s easy to forget humanity when you’re no longer human, but the memory of it is still there, still something you can tap into, if you have the right motivation.  
  
Graves is glad his motivation found him, with the ring of a doorbell, and he smiles, because his life, at this moment, is better than anything he has ever had. He smiles because he is happy, and he smiles because he is in love, in love with the most genuine man he has ever met.  
  
He smiles because he will enjoy every precious second he is granted with him.  
  
Graves doesn’t know what the future holds in store for him, for them, but he will be grateful every day that Credence Barebone continues to choose him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear from you!!
> 
> You remember when we were teens and we'd browse google to find pics of people who looked like our OCs? Turns out that's still fun. The Scooby Gang as I imagine them: [aka Graves' Worst Nightmares](https://i.imgur.com/EoVlgt9.jpg)
> 
> Huge thanks to [Erin](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire) and my mom, for being so awesome and supportive and encouraging as I wrote this!!! <3
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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